


~Forever Forgotten~ To Dust

by Forbidden Writers (SmashQ)



Series: Forever Forgotten [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 132,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmashQ/pseuds/Forbidden%20Writers
Summary: This is the tale of the return of the Prophetic Ones, that of the return of Evil and Malice to the land of Hyrule. From Ashes, the forces of the Gods will rise to strike them down once more, their success driven only by fate. This is the tale of ~Forever Forgotten~ To Dust.+A crosspost of the second Forever Forgotten interactive story from the Exploding Deku Nut/Forbidden Woods Zelda forums from 4-9 years ago, done with permission. Chapters divided by authors.
Series: Forever Forgotten [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543582
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue: From Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Tetra, one of the original writers: "Writing wise and character wise 2 is better and usually less silly[.] But I think 1 is stronger in its overall story arc[.]"
> 
> To quote Zeldaeinstein, the man who started this: "But it is important to note that it is technically a Zelda fan fiction with an expanded universe. No Zelda or Link or Ganondorf or anything. It's one of those tropey stories where there's been a [REDACTED] all along."
> 
> Please keep in mind that on the forums these were posted there was an auto censor that overwrote curse words with *Navi*. There were a few other silly ones, but that was the prominent one. In the event someone added in curse words, they won't be corrected.

It was a day rejoiced for five hundred years. Peace reigned throughout the devastated Kingdom of Hyrule and beyond at the felling of their Demonic Conqueror, Arivis. His forces dispersed and his curse lifted from the land, the faint seeds of the future began to grow. The Prophetic Ones travelled far and wide to call the survivors and refugees to their ruined homeland, in the hopes of repair.

To the North, the Prophet, through his scrutiny and wisdom, was able to discover the safe house in which the remnants of the royal line had fled to under the Fallen’s Siege. Restoring the name of ‘Hyrule’ back to its land was at last the final key to its salvation. Doubters returned with new interest, families reconstructed towns and villages, pathways and crops. It only took a matter of three years to return Hyrule to its former glory; however, the taint of Arivis’s hand still hung over them, his memory a jarring but waning force. For his service, the Prophet held office as the Royal Advisor, some say to quell worries of more supernatural attacks, others say it led to the sudden disappearance of fabled silverware.

Yet over a period of only a few years, his friends going their separate ways, the Prophet stepped down to pursue life out in the world he helped save. What he called his ‘good luck charm’, a large silver key he came into possession with, he left to his successor. It is now tradition for the Prophet’s Grace to be worn by every esteemed Advisor as a symbol for the past and the unlocking of Hyrule’s Future.

With the Prophetic Ones vacant from Hyrule, their previous guidance disappeared as well. Although for a few generations lost, the kingdom thrived under new life and law, settling it down for a well deserved peace. It was until the heralded reign of King Darik that no strife ever manifested within the land’s borders. Darik served for forty years, it was widely considered the greatest rule of any monarch, both in commerce and general goals from fields to the highest court in the land. That was until misfortune struck, a group of marauders invaded the capital, murdering the elderly King and his family while looting the Knight’s Tower of all its weapons and its treasury. Their identity was never discovered.

Rumours say that gold filled corpses were soon dug up in the North East, bandits force-fed coins and jewels. It had since been three hundred years after the death of Arivis.

With no heir to speak of, it was inevitable that war would ravage the country. Two opposing parties rose to power to fill the vacant seat of the capital, both claiming bloodlines and best intentions. Despite either side’s intent, they rallied troops and fought on Hyrulean ground, spilling Hyrule blood. It was not until after the, then in partial control of all of the King’s assets, Advisor had been ousted from his seat. He immediately fled the Kingdom in search of his and its salvation. It came, but with a price.

The forces from the surrounding lands raised their arms and invaded the crumbling state of Hyrule. Lacking the foresight, both of the Hyrulean armies defended their interests, immediately forcing a declaration of war with old allies. In a matter of a month, the majority of the rallied troops were either killed or realized their folly, joining ‘enemy’ battalions. The group leaders who were unable to settle differences and seemingly unable to surrender against their powerful adversary, were eventually captured. Put to death as war criminals, the citizens of many a kingdom rejoiced.

The Advisor who had returned with help was appointed the new King by popular demand until a proper family tree was drafted of the Hyrule bloodline. William Russeau reigned for twenty years, his successor a proven member of the Royal Family, a bastard child but still that of a King. Removing the Prophet’s Grace with honour, he retired and founded a community to the East, naming it after his King and his best friend, Darik Village.

Yet with all the lessons to be taught of foul ruling, the state of Hyrule both grew and grew decrepit as monarchs slowly passed the Throne. Expanding in wealth and size, it was only a matter of time before citizens and assets were no longer kept in line. Crime began to breed in the streets of old, murderers and rapists prowled the night and the Knight’s Guild lost its command and strength in the eyes of the citizens. King’s became ignorant of the misfortune beyond the Castle walls, the degrading of Hyrule’s glory, focussing more on hording more land and making more gold. Eventually Darik Village fell from the watchful eye of the capital, the family of Russeau nearly forgotten and driven into poverty.

It has been over five hundred years since the Prophetic Ones descended to save Hyrule. Their actions are still marked but with far more scepticism and forlorn emotion.

  
This is the tale of the return of the Prophetic Ones, that of the return of Evil and Malice to the land of Hyrule. From Ashes, the forces of the Gods will rise to strike them down once more, their success driven only by fate. This is the tale of ~Forever Forgotten~ To Dust.


	2. Chapter One: Divinity's Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein

Across the lavishly carpeted room the grandfather clock approached high noon. The swinging of its bronze pendulum silent but its presence was made well aware by the reflecting light that shone through the windows. Everything seemed over the top in here, but he had learned to live this life, it was, after all, his duty now. His desk had been crafted from the same Mahogany as his job-inherited clock, his only companion for most of his days. If he wasn’t at work, he was watching his friend slowly remind him how little time there was left and all the time he had lost signing papers.  
  
Klaus flipped the newest piece of parchment over and made notes as he read. It was another report of thievery from one of the dozens of small Bazaars that littered the Capital’s streets. He slowly circled suggested felons on a separate sheet of names and crumpled the demand for more guards. They all knew they were short of knights; it was a job that no longer rested upon honour rather than pay and risks. But how could he blame them for not wanting to walk those streets?  
  
Dipping his pen back into its ink, he stifled a sad chuckle. There were around fifty names of convicted, escaped, or suspected criminals on his list. The circles from the years previous had long but faded and the number of fresher ones almost made him sick. He should have listened more closely to his father those years ago, this job was the fall of many a man, his family was well entitled about that. Whatever sense of honour he received from his service was soon overwhelmed by its burden.  
  
The ironic thing was, as High Cleric he was the most loved man in Hyrule. But as the Advisor, he was the most hated.  
  
The clock struck twelve, echoing empty clangs into his study. And right on time, the knights stationed outside his door entered, bringing the news he wasn’t ready to have to deal with. The younger of the two approached and knelt in front of Klaus’s desk.  
  
“Sir Klaus, they have been arranged in the square.” Zachary was his name, deep red coloured hair and an unshaven face adorned his most prominent features. His eyes were closed and his head at an angle to the ground. Klaus sighed.  
  
“Get up; haven’t we already talked about this?” Pushing his seat back and adjusting his stack of papers, the Advisor rounded his table. He placed his hand on Zachary’s shoulder momentarily before pulling him up to stand at full height, a good three inches taller than himself. “I am not much for those formalities. There is no man that deserves to be knelt before, even the King grows tired of empty fealty, be it with good intentions or respects or not.”  
  
Zachary scoffed at the mention of the King. If the Advisor was the most hated, it was hard to denote just what animosity was held for His Majesty. Only Klaus knew of the good will held in the King’s heart. But after so many generations of ill-ruling, he understood why even those bound to serve the Royal Family could care less of their wellbeing. It was most disturbing seeing it in the newer recruits to the Knights. Another rebellion was something Hyrule could go without. King Basyle had been trying to regain a hold of trust with the people. Klaus knew deep down that the Hyrule they both wanted was beyond their grasp. For now.  
  
If not for the meaning of the ceremony, he would be completely against it. His purpose was stretching beyond the boundaries of morals, his and those of the people. And again, it had to be done.  
  
“Captain Benjamin has waited long enough; it was to be done at the stroke of noon, not afterwards.” The older knight leered as Klaus retrieved two small charms and arranged them around his neck. A small golden case was lifted from the mantle behind him, and held like a newborn by Zachary. Klaus’s garments made him feel further burdened by life and the laws of gentlemen. Things had to be done in this kingdom; his comfort was penniless in comparison.  
  
“You must understand, Thomas, that I hold life’s beauty much higher than this.” He felt like he was faking his sad expression. It had worked either way with doubted sincerity; the Knight was sobered for a moment and stood stark still until opening the door out into the halls of the Castle.  
  
These were the corridors walked by many an honoured man. Klaus spun the small silver key hanging from his neck, his ancestor wore this once. And a man greater than any before him. What happened in these halls long ago was shrouded in myth, the only truth settling it as legendary. The Prophetic Ones once were revered as highly as the Gods. But as times changed, so did faith, and so did life outside of fairytales.  
  
***  
  
It was soon that he was being lifted up high into the Royal Chariot, where he sat across from other clerics coming to watch his performance. The idea was sadistically ironic. He rested for those few minutes into the capital city, his hands lying still in his lap, holding the gold case. Klaus bore his eyes into its elaborate design, watching it almost blend in with that of his dress, which in turn matched their transportation. A luxurious life was empty of it.  
  
The visor at the front of the carriage was opened by the secondary driver. “You will have to keep to your seats for a moment. We need to disperse the crowds, keep the rocks out of the hands, and keep the children out of sight.” Abruptly, he slammed it shut. The man’s name was James, a ruffian if one ever existed. Jovial by working standards, he was affiliated with everyone, but commonly regarded as a lowlife by the rest of the Counsel. Klaus found his humour and essence refreshing. They were friends from the beginning.  
  
Sir Thomas could be heard outside, yelling over top the crowd’s raucous cries to gather their attention. “I present to you, the citizens of Hyrule, the Counsel of Clerics, and the Overseers of today’s events.” At this, the creaking doors of the chariot were pulled open and half a dozen older men were helped down to the cobblestones by a faction of knights. Obscenities were thrown among other’s cheering. The men were directed to form a tattered circle around a large wooden structure in the square.  
  
“We have called upon the Wisdom of the Advisor to gra-,” An almost unanimous clamour rose through the audience before the clanging of iron swords from the guards brought them to silence once more. “The Honourable Sir Klaus, Advisor to His Grace.” Thomas reached up to hold the Advisor’s Case, before finally having Zachary help him down.  
  
The sight of the haphazard structure in front of him made him feel sick. He thought he would have gotten used to this by now, to able to close off his emotions for these displays. So far he had been unsuccessful; he was rather fond of his humanity, the little he could spare.  
He ascended the steps in front of him, where at their end came a large platform. In shackles, there stood three men. Convicted of unforgiveable crimes and placed here for a number of days for people to observe. It was common to find them dead before the ceremony, while prior to others they were freed by their subsidiaries. These men had only felt the brunt of a few cast rocks and a few curious crows. One sat perched at the highest point of The Table.  
  
Klaus set the case down beside him and opened it. Some members of the crowd, despite being already far away, withdrew even more. Even one of the criminals seemed to cringe away from looking at it or even the Cleric himself. Removing three small objects from the moulds inside, the Advisor approached before turning to address the crowd.  
  
“Before the eyes of the Gods and their Creation, we present to them three men. As High Cleric and Advisor to King Basyle, it is my duty to speak for the Heavens and for the Earth.” Klaus closed his eyes and turned back to the first man on the left. He removed his pendant and adjusted it to the Gold piece, the Triforce of Power, a bright ruby glistening in its centre from the midday Sun. Slowly sketching a triangle upon the man’s bare chest, he spoke aloud. “For the crime of murder, the Fire of Din will attempt to cleanse you of your wickedness. May your soul meet salvation.” Klaus bent down to the man’s chained feet and placed a simple bottle.  
  
Moving from him to the middle prisoner, the crow from above screeched and took flight, circling over the scene in search for prey. The Advisor turned his charm to the Silver segment, a beautiful sapphire peering out of its centre. He traced another triangle across the man’s chest. “For the crime of the raping and beating of three women, the Laws of Nayru shall attempt to cleanse you of your wickedness. May your soul meet salvation.” His eyes met the criminal’s wide ones for a brief second before placing another bottle at his feet. At last he faced the third man, the one who had received the most punishment from bored passersby over the last week.  
  
Klaus turned his Triforce pendant finally to its bronze fragment, a large emerald resting in its plating. As he followed his final triangular path, he continued with each piece to form a projected image of the complete Triforce on the man’s chest. “For the multiple crimes of murder, thievery, rape, arson, and adultery, the Whim of Farore descends. Your wickedness is beyond the powers of wishful thinking.” A third and final bottle was placed before one of the most hated criminals in all of Hyrule; Klaus backed away, closing his case and locking it.  
  
With his tinkering ways, he finally gave the Prophet’s Grace something to do. It seemed only fitting it protect his cherished potions. And now look what they were being used for. Klaus turned around, scorn running through is face, both for what crimes these men had committed and for the crime he was about to be allowed. The magical timer of the first bottle finished. An eruption of flames shattered through the glass and absorbed the man, who was first silent from shock but soon was screaming into the square. He tugged at his chains to no avail, the unforgiving array of coloured fire writhing around him. The other two jumped with horror. Klaus shook his head. _How could anyone perform atrocities and be disgusted by those of others?_ He enjoyed his own hypocrisy.  
  
The second bottle shattered and a maelstrom of lighting shot out from its remains. A second crying voice echoed into the square, the crowd cheered. And at last, the third and final bottle met its timed fate. A wisp of green coloured dust spewed out and gripped its target’s feet, before slowly moving its way up his body. Nothing happened for a moment.  
  
The raven landed on the rafter above the final man. His reaction was the loudest. After all, Klaus had given him his most potent and unforgiving spell of them all. He was destined to quickly rot from his feet up, the retraction of Farore’s most prized gift. One by one, the three fell silent. The first fell from his shackles in an array of charred ashes, the second much the same and the final into a pile of discoloured dust.  
  
Around the Advisor, the citizens gave their appreciation of the show. Klaus’s stomach churned as he lifted the case back up, walking to each of the prisoner’s remains, speaking only a few words of blessing in Hylian before quickly descending back to his carriage. James placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he passed by. The Advisor quickly shook it off and hoisted himself back into the Chariot while the crowds around him either called his name with affection or hatred. He slumped back, letting his Case fall to the floor and placed his head into his hands.  
  
He would never understand just how the Warrior was able to do this without so much as a regret.


	3. Chapter Two: A Lost Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: LeftIronBoot

_**Log, Day 12**  
  
I say twelve because I lost count a little while ago and decided to simply start again using a day twelve days ago as reference. The things we do to keep occupied... speaking of which, my little project had a teeny weeny hiccup today. The tall, greasy, stinky, stupid, smarmy waste of time I locked away lost his only companion today. It got sucked right out through the wall. I knew I should have sprung for the double reinforced walls... but then why didn’t I? It was so terribly tiresome to keep track of what I did and didn’t know that I simply decided I knew everything and that seemed to clear that up... so I must have known this would happen... Oh, also, he lost the drum kit. I liked that one. I shall have to grow another for my mantle._  
  
**Somewhere near Kakiroko village, approximately 500 years before present day...**  
  
Just as a loud crashing sound filled the air with the partial demolition of a solitary wall, a small mechanical bird plipped into the world, rocketing into the empty chasm that was a stalfos skull. Unnoticeably, a miniature clockwork drum kit flew out as well but landed haphazardly a few feet away. After a few seconds its internal timer went off. The drum did as its design ordained and, after releasing a small rimshot, sadly plipped back out of the world. To an outside observer, the scene would have seemed quite comical. Conversely, to an inside observer, the layout and timing of events may have been quite confronting and eerie. Luckily though, there were no outside observers to speak of and the few inside observers consisted of an old man who had become quite accustomed to the frequent eeriness of reality, a young bandit who was barely conscious at all and a poor stalfos who, after looking for the source of the strange ticking he now heard and then shrugging in defeat, was thrown into a virtually comatose state. The coincidental nature of events shouldn’t have bothered the hidden fourth observer, given that he was what some might call a mere trinket. However, had he not been rigorously attempting to adjust his clockwork heart to tick more quietly, he may have been quite put off by the day’s proceedings so far. As it was, the little copper creature had just been taken abruptly from his dark prison of 20 odd years, separating him from what little company he had known in his relatively short life and had been thrust into the mysteriously empty head of a living skeleton. With the addition of some mechanical percussion being timed somewhat too scarily-well for his very sensitive tastes and the crossing between a world of eternal darkness and a land relatively bursting with light, it’s a wonder poor Lewis didn’t blow a gasket. Luckily, Lewis was not a steam powered machine. Nor a magic powered machine. He was something the world had not seen for a very long time...  
  
~  
  
“... Lewis? My friend? What was that sound? Am I to think you have vanished? Surely you jest... Le-Lewis?”  
Daedus’ stammering words were left unheeded. How could his companion possibly hear him? The small fracture between the two worlds had sealed the instant they had opened. Unfortunately for him, a moment was all it took to steal away his sole purpose for being stopped up in that small shack. It took him a few days to truly accept that Lewis was gone. Of course, he turned the house upside-down looking for his treasured friend. He worked relentlessly, without an ounce of rest. When he was finally too weak, he broke down and cried. Then he slept. When he awoke he found his day’s food lying on a shabbily prepared table, just like every other time he awoke. However, this time seemed different. A small rose in a copper pot was resting near the corner of his meal. Whatever was keeping him alive in this house, this prison, recognised the pain he felt. Daedus’ didn’t quite understand the implications, but he knew he was being watched. Without Lewis’ company though, for the first time in many years in his little wooden house with the darkness pressing a small parchment note against the window, Daedus was truly afraid.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
_**Mossy log, day 14**  
  
Oh, the log? Yeah, I figured it wasn’t moving, and it has been QUITE a while, so moss MUST have grown on it by now. Oh, and I lost count again. I picked fourteen because it made sense at the time... I can’t be bothered remembering why... Anyway, my project is boring me. Now that the smaller, shiny one has left, the big, stinky, stupid one never does anything. He will do things soon though. I imagine it is his way, so, I suppose it must be. In any case, though tiring it is, I decided to check in on the smaller shiny one. It seems to have left its new cage just hours after getting into it... or maybe it was days... years? That world is so hard to keep track of... in any case, I grew tired after seeing that the pale bony one had shattered. I have currently retired to the lounge and am sipping on a delicious fermented beverage, vintage 3 minutes ago. It’s very powerful. It must have been 4 minutes._  
  
**Crandall Castle, many days after Lewis’ release...**  
  
He looked out through one of the portholes in the stalfos’ skull, seeing the manic grin of the most terrifying being he had ever set his sights on. With one sickeningly graceful movement, the beast drew its arm toward Lewis’ hiding place, something frighteningly powerful sitting snugly in his callous palm. The copper bird was overcome by the emotions of his vessel. Being that the skeleton had no physical brain, his thoughts passed freely through his bone head, siphoning through whatever poor occupants happened to be in there at the time. Lewis had watched the endeavours of these people, seen their hardships and felt their triumphs, all through the eyes and thoughts of this battle worn beast. Now though was the only time he was truly overwhelmed, not by the rage of the warrior, but by his deep, deep sorrow. He could feel that the stalfos felt broken, destroyed. He felt heartless for thinking it, but Lewis knew that now was the time to leave. He braced himself against the side of the quivering skull and awaited the freedom the demise of his gracious host would provide.  
  
As the smoke poured around the cauterised warrior, Lewis tried not to move. The limp body tumbled to the ground, the small bird lost his grip and slipped out into the burning grass. Luckily for him, the smoke hid his fall and the horrifying scene masked his escape. His heart torn asunder, Lewis flew back to where he knew he needed to go. He flew back to the wall, because he knew he had to tell Daedus all the things he’d seen, the people he’d found... one in particular.  
It was a long flight back to the ruined wall. It had given Lewis a lot of time to think about what he was actually doing. Being of very sound mind but very little knowledge, Lewis knew nothing of magical portals or parallel dimensions. What he did know was that there was no way back... at least, none he could find on his own. Still, he was a determined little bird, and he figured that if he didn’t know he could find a way, then he mustn’t know he couldn’t either. It’s funny the things that pass through a little metal bird’s mind.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
_**Mulch, day 3 ‘til 0**  
  
I figured I would get a head start on losing count today, so I’m using a day three days ahead of me as a reference point this time. Since the log has completely decomposed into slush, it MUST have been a really long time, so I must be about to lose count any day now. The paths of worlds never cease to bore me. The big stinky one’s little world has grown up a lot less than the little shiny one’s big world. It would seem that the small one should go faster and the big one slower, but clearly they don’t, so it doesn’t and thus I know it. It is quite a bore knowing everything. I feel though that the big one isn’t lasting too well... even that rose is losing its strength, and I grew that one tomorrow, so it MUST be fresh. It doesn’t matter though. These tiny universes have a way of sorting themselves out at the most incredible times. On that note, I have some business to attend to._  
  
**Somewhere near Kakariko Village, a few days before present...**  
  
The wall remained mostly unchanged, forgiving the rounding of bricks from the swift movement of time. In front of it stood a small, stoic figure. The many years had done little to change its copper form, but the unforgiving rains had unfortunately rusted his small wings shut. Most of his other joints were fused in the same way. While machines may live forever, they do not age gracefully. Thankfully, though it is working much slower thanks to its now ancient rusted gears and lack of recent activity, Lewis’ mind was still ticking away. It still knew what it was and where and although the thought had been misplaced many times in meditation, Lewis still new exactly why he was here. In front of the little marvel, etched into the very ground itself was a message to his friend. Lewis, despite being very well versed was still a relatively childlike machine, and did not wholly comprehend the concept of aging. Though it had been many hundreds of years, he still waited adamantly for the return of his friend. He had complete faith in an impossible fancy. He also gave no thought to the fact that in a few days time, his body would be so rusted that he wouldn’t even be able to blink. Long ago losing the ability to move voluntarily from his resting place, Lewis had become accustomed to not moving. What were a few more hundred years of not being able to move if only he could see his friend again?  
  
~  
  
“I awake to another empty day,” was part of the morning ritual that Daedus droned out whenever he awoke from his slumber. He had spent every day since the departure of his small friend like this and hadn’t planned on changing his routine. He awoke, unforgivingly welcomed the morning, barely nourished himself then went back to bed. Whenever he became sore from lack of movement he simply shut his eyes and pretended to ignore it. Then, whenever it became too bad, he got up and practiced his fencing. It was the last thing that really reminded him of the world on the other side. This was his routine every day for almost a year. Being of simple mind with fair knowledge, he considered no other option except to continue his existence as it was, as he felt there was no way of changing his circumstances. Coming to this conclusion, as he did most days, he dropped his dusty rapier and reached for his daily meal.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
_**Mulch... wait... no... is that... sprout, Day 0**  
  
The old foundation has completely given way to a new life. Sooner or later I’ll have another log to write about... maybe sooner. I took care of that business. It held me up considerably. I couldn’t focus on anything else in fact. Good thing I knew exactly what I was missing. I dropped something as well. Couldn’t find it where it used to be, so I figure I must have dropped it. I wondered where it must have gone, but then I remembered that I already know... I just mustn’t care. Wonderful that that’s cleared up._  
  
**Somewhere near Kakariko Village, present day...**  
  
As his eyes began to stick shut, Lewis saw something very confusing. Where there was just a wall a moment ago, a house now stood. While Lewis hadn’t learned very much over his very long stay in this abandoned place, he had learned that houses didn’t just appear. It sounded as if it had fallen from a great distance, but Lewis had seen it appear just a hair above the ground. He considered a house falling through a very small space as if falling through a very large space, and then realised that the space he required to think about that was occupied by different thoughts entirely. His rusted old gears clicked backward a notch or two and he remembered what he was, where he was and exactly why he was here. Had he been able to, he would have cried. Unfortunately, his eyes were now as stationary as the rest of him.  
  
~  
  
Daedus was not interested in his sword falling to the floor, which was unusual as the weapon had in fact stopped for a moment between his hand and its inevitable destination. What had caught his eye however was how surprisingly delicious his meal looked in the sunlight. He turned his head to follow the beam of light to the window and was shocked as the light scolded his eyes. As reality dawned upon him, his stomach squirmed. He didn’t know how to react, so his body helped him by letting out a few awkward tears. He approached the door that he had pounded on so furiously those few years ago and gently began to turn the knob. Heart pounding, he paused. His hand was shaking, his body weak from years of sadness and isolation. Slowly he willed himself forward, moving through the doorway, out into the world around him.  
  
Shielding his delicate eyes from the sun, he surveyed the world. He knelt over, shaking. He dampened the stone beneath him with tears, the dry earth soaking up every heartfelt drop. For a few minutes he was overwhelmed by the shock. He stayed curled over, not knowing what to do. He watched as his tears made patterns in the dusty ground, trickling into cracks and darkening whatever they touched. He couldn’t help but be distracted by the smallest insect attempting to avoid the airborne assault. Following it as it escaped, Daedus shuffled, bent over, hands around knees. He followed it around the corner of the house and over toward a scratched piece of stone. He only took his eyes off the ground when he noticed exactly how scratched it was. After reading his name in the dusty engravings, his eyes grew wide and he began to look for who had inscribed the rest of the message. At the bottom of the long trail of dust filled etchings stood a little clockwork bird. Even though it was rusted shut, Daedus could have sworn a little smile flickered across its weatherworn beak. He picked Lewis up and for what felt like the first time in forever, they felt each other’s hearts tick again. It took a long time before Daedus was ready to open his eyes to read the ancient letter meant just for him. When he did finally read it, his heart dropped. Looking to his companion, Daedus smiled and rubbed away some dust from around the small creature’s head. He took Lewis to the window that a certain letter had been pressed against all this time, ignoring the millions of tiny teeth marks covering the walls of the house. The days before his imprisonment flashed before his eyes as Daedus peeled the letter off of the window and read through its simple message once again. He had tried to ignore it while he was confined; he hadn’t needed any reminding of what he had done. Now though, it brought a new flame to an old fire once kindled by the words of his parents.  
  
“Lewis, I am afraid that I have figured out what to do. Redemption is my only course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposter note: The forums are currently down at the point of posting this, so I'll get the appropriate link inserted once I have an archived snapshot of it.
> 
> Original notes: >> WORD TO THE WISE: Profile page can be found [here](https://web.archive.org/web/20191206175615/http://acgventcast.ca/forum/viewtopic.php?f=12&t=2569) along with back story.


	4. Chapter Three: A Wanted Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zetsuyout

In the lone bar of a tiny hamlet at the outer edge of the great Hyrule field, two men sat huddled close together over a torn notice.

“I’m telling you that’s the guy,” one of the men whispered to the other. They were talking about a man wearing a long red coat who was sitting at the opposite end of the bar. He was holding but not drinking from the one drink he had bought after he walked in fifteen minutes prior. The speaker stabbed the notice that was sitting on the table with his finger, it was a wanted poster with a pictograph of a man in a military uniform with the name 'William Desesperacion' and the sum of 15 000 rupees under it.

“He’s missing some of this military shine but it’s the guy.” The man continued.

His companion replied, “Okay, I’ll get my men to surround him as he’s leaving. We’ll be sure to make short work of him, six to one’s hardly a fair fight.” He grinned wickedly.

Just then, the man they were discussing, William, stood up, downed his drink in one gulp, and walked out the door ignoring the conspirators. The two men waited a moment then followed him out to see him round the road's corner into the forest. The first man grabbed the second's arm as he moved to follow Will saying, “Let’s get this clear, I get a seventh cut of the reward and the rest goes to you and your men.”

“Yeah, about that,” the second stated coldly. “There’s been a bit of a change to the plan.” The first man began to speak but stopped abruptly and coughed up blood, he fell forward with another man wearing a scarf over his head and bloody knife in his hand standing behind him.

The second man turned to the new arrival and said, “Let’s go.”

The forest road was dark despite the full moon; the overhanging branches all but blocked its light. Will walked slowly along the path cut through the trees appearing almost tired, he had the right to be, always moving and not staying in one place for more than a night or two. It was the life of a fugitive. He came to a stop as three men appeared before him blocking his way and three more coming up from behind. In the centre stood the man from the bar giving an air of command.

The leader called out, “Looks like you’ve nowhere important to go, sir. Would you humour us a moment?” He grinned wickedly again.

Will sighed and picked a monocle out of his pocket, putting it to his right eye. His audience seemed almost confused by his lack of a reaction, unsure what was meant to be happening. Suddenly, Will pulled his two handguns out from their holsters, pointed them behind him, and let off a shot from each, hitting each goon to the leader's sides in the forehead. As they tumbled back, the three in front charged at him bearing daggers. Will holstered his guns and drew his sword, an elegant red hilted rapier; he swung at his opponents in the same movement.

The man to his right ducked Desesperacion's arc while the middle man jumped back, dodging the blade by centimetres. But the third man wasn’t so lucky, blood sprayed everywhere as the blade cut through the man's neck severing both arteries. The corpse fell to its knees head hanging back only half attached to its body, but Will hardly noticed as he was moving to his next opponent. The man who had ducked his first strike hadn’t recovered yet and Will jumped over his back, switching his grip to backhand and stabbed up into the man's stomach, the tip of the blade just sticking out of the top. Will pulled his sword free and rushed the third man, flipping his sword back as the new casualty collapsed. He sliced through the next victims midsection and a fifth body was added to the scene.

He turned around hearing the leader clapping, “very good, very good, you certainly live up to your bounty and I guess this means I get to keep it all.”

As he said this, he pulled a medium sized broadsword from a sheath on his back; he pointed the tip at Will and charged. Will deflected the blow almost gracefully and stepped to the side, watching the leader stumble to a stop. The brief embarrassment infuriated the leader and he spun around and charged again, this time swinging his sword wildly. Will jumped back from the first swing and ducked the second, he angled his swift rapier up and stabbed it through the hand holding his opponents blade, sending it flying. The leader not ready to quit yet, pulled a dagger from his belt and thrust it at Will's head. Will ducked the attack and jumped back, ready to deliver his final blow. He paused a moment then dashed towards the leader. Seeing his peril, the leader threw the dagger as a last ditch effort to stop Will, but managed only to nick his cheek before being run through.

Will pulled his sword out and sheathed it, glancing back at the leader as he heard him giving a faint groan, still alive, but only just. Will pulled one of his guns and spun it on his finger, shooting the leader in the face, and returned the firearm to its holster a second later.

William walked from the scene, popped the monocle from his eye and placed it back in his pocket, finally giving one statement, “Say hello to the rest of the trash like you in the afterlife for me, I won’t be reaching that place anytime soon.”


	5. Chapter Four: A Troubled Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Ridley

Surrounded. They were all around, silently laughing at him. Unsheathing his sword, he began to think of a plan to get out of this predicament. He swung his sword at the closest one, the blade passing through it as if it were not actually there. They began to fly around him, faster and faster, their laughter growing audible. Then suddenly they were gone, leaving him in the darkness. Puzzled, he began to move forward, not entirely sure of what to do, or where he was for that matter. Only the sound of his armour clinking accompanied him as he walked through the shadows. Then he came to a halt, sensing a presence behind him. It was another one of them, floating up to him, its eyes glowing. As it got closer, a bright flash obscured all sight, laughter starting all around, and slowly fading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fulkrome awoke facing the rising sun, the remnants of his dream slowly fading in his mind. Stretching, he began to look around, sunlight shining through the trees and onto his armor. A deer stood off in the distance, peacefully grazing in a small clearing. A snapping branch could be heard from behind him. Turning, Fulkrome noticed two figures heading towards him. Reaching for his sword, he tried to make out the figures. Humanoid, average height, muscular, dark skin. Moblins. As they got closer, he began to look for that all too familiar mark, the mark of Ganondorf. Although the King of Evil has been gone for many centuries, some of his followers’ descendants still clung to his evil ways. As the two moblins stepped over a small stream their marks became visible, that twisted insignia resting on the front of their shoulders. Letting out a sigh, Fulkrome unsheathed his blade and got ready for what he knew would be a short fight.

The moblins started to run towards him now, taking their swords out as well. Fulkrome stood there, motionless, as the first one went in to attack. Surprisingly quick, Fulkrome stepped out of the way of the moblin’s sword and proceeded to kill it with a swift stab through the neck. The second moblin attacked immediately after, catching Fulkrome slightly off guard. The blow wasn’t very accurate, however, and merely glanced off his armour. Fulkrome quickly finished off the moblin, leaving both bodies where they lay.

_They don’t deserve a burial,_ he thought to himself as he gathered his very few belongings and began to find his way out of the forest. _It’s unsettling how even to this day his corruption lingers among these creatures._ Ever since he broke away from Ganondorf’s influence, Fulkrome has dedicated himself to ridding the lands of any of his followers. One of the greatest challenges had to be defeating the other Darknuts. Being some of the strongest of Ganondorf’s minions, they all put up incredible fights. _Am I the last of the Darknuts?_ he thought to himself as he neared the edge of the forest. Hyrule Field could be seen past the remaining trees, a vast expanse connecting the various regions of Hyrule. Fulkrome didn’t enjoy thinking about his past, but was often lost in his own memories. While he has changed his ways, none of his good actions could account for all his past actions. As he stepped into the open sunlight, he began to reminisce of times gone by, darker times…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fire. Screams. Complete panic. It wasn’t often Fulkrome was sent on a raid, but when he was he enjoyed himself immensely. Buildings burned all around, people fled in terror, creatures roamed the streets in delight. Fulkrome lifted his blade to his face, observing the stains of blood in the light of the fires all around. _What a morbidly beautiful sight,_ he thought to himself. As he lowered the blade, he noticed a warrior stumbling toward him. _They don’t know when to give up, their little village is lost._ Fulkrome laughed to himself as he stuck his gauntlet into the nearest fire. A look of horror entered the warrior’s face as he slowed his approach.

“What, scared?” Fulkrome taunted as his gauntlet began to glow from the heat. “So ready to lose your life to protect this feeble village. Look around, there’s no saving it now.” The warrior dropped his sword and tried to run away. Within the blink of an eye, Fulkrome was upon the man, hand clutching his throat. “Ah, the sound of searing flesh, wonderful isn’t it?” Fulkrome began to laugh maniacally as the man struggled to escape his grasp.

“Please…” said the man as his last few moments of life drained away. Fulkrome dropped the man and proceeded to take off his glove. His hand was full of painful burns, not that it ever mattered to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fulkrome was shaken from his memories by the sight of a group of people off in the distance, an elderly couple and a few small children. Although centuries have gone by since he had performed his last evil deed, rumors of his former self have survived. People who know these rumors either flee or try and fight, hoping to gain glory or some other reward for slaying him. Even those who don’t know the rumors often act in a similar way, all Darknuts are dangerous to them. This group, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by Fulkrome. They did not change their path to avoid him, nor did they draw any weapons. They simply smiled at him as they passed. _Odd,_ Fulkrome thought, _never had that reaction from anyone before. Things must have changed since my absence from Hyrule._ Before Arivis’ attack, Fulkrome had set off to far away kingdoms to slay any evil oppressors. Only on his trip back did he learn of Arivis and the devastation he caused. _At least this kingdom is recovering._

With no clouds in the sky, the sun shone brightly, warming everything in the field. All around, everything seemed so peaceful. Far off in the distance Hyrule Castle could be seen. _How are they faring there?_ he wondered. _Well however they’re doing I doubt having a Darknut around would help._ He silently laughed to himself. A light breeze started up as he continued walking. _Hopefully this peace will last,_ he thought. _With no major threat to the kingdom I may finally be able to rest for awhile._ Even with all his experience accumulated over his long life, he hoped peace would remain. But deep down he knew it could never last very long. It already seemed long overdue.


	6. Chapter Five: Fates Entangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Deku Lord

*** * * Fluvari – Approximately five hundred Hylian years before present * * ***  
  
Something seemed just a little bit off. Perhaps his perception was distorted by his greatest friend's disappearance just three days earlier, or the fact that the Royal Council had just recently appointed him as Lord, or his craving for another bit of Potato Stew, but the painting of the first ruler of Fluvari was crooked.  
  
“Move it a bit to the left, Thomas. Try to align the floor in the painting with the floor in the real world, will you? And Mr. Canon, fetch me some more of that stew, and some for yourself if you're hungry. That was simply delicious.” As the new butler scurried out of the master bedchamber, Lukas looked back toward Sir Thomas to see him falling backward under the weight of the portrait.  
  
“No no no, Thomas, this won't look very good face-down on the floor, and it will be even worse if you're under it. Let me help you with that.”  
  
 *** * * Afterlife – Present * * ***  
  
It was a dark and stormy night, and while that may sound terribly cliché, that was the weather in this dismal place. Always. Railin awoke in his bed shivering, cold, and with mucus quite literally pouring out of one nostril onto his pillow. Perhaps he would be able to get over this damned cold if it wasn't so cold here, or if it ever stopped raining, or if he had somebody to curl up beside, but all he had was himself and that slipshod excuse for a cot that he'd carved out of a log. “An eternity spent travelling the Lost Woods.” he thought. Those were the only words he'd heard upon his entry to this new area, right after..  
  
He shuddered. Why him? It appeared that this fate was reserved for him alone. Nobody else was around, nobody but the trees anyway, and they never spoke to him. Bastards.  
  
After checking for his knife, he picked up the log and began today's trek; he'd found that if he stayed in the same clearing for more than a day, a black flame started up in the middle of the clearing, grew legs, and began to walk toward him, leaving normal fires each time it took a step. They never had eyes. How on earth could these little flame-men find him if everything always looked the same? How could they even see everything looked the same without any eyes?  
  
 *** * * Fluvari – Approximately five hundred Hylian years before present * * ***  
  
“You would think..” Jethro began, but he trailed off. The courtyard was not having its usual thought-clearing effect, and, though his craving for stew was now satisfied, he could not get the Deku Lord out of his mind. It was almost certain that he would never see his friend again, and just the thought gnawed at the new Lord. Thomas walked beside him, silently respecting his friend's careful thoughts, awaiting the time Lukas would want to talk to somebody about his loss.  
  
They passed by the rosebush. “What do you think of roses, Thomas? Sure, they're commonly associated with love given their qualities, but what's your take?”  
  
“I don't like them, really. The thorns are a pain in the aft end to avoid.”  
  
“It's very revealing, what people think of roses, don't you think?”  
  
“... yes, my Liege.”  
  
They continued their stroll in silence, and took a right onto the Hedge Path. In the centre of the hedged in area were three marble benches around a crystalline fountain, one of which they sat upon. The silence continued until a small whirring was heard. It progressively got louder, but no source could be identified; it unnerved them both, and they glanced at each other as they drew their weapons.  
  
The Deku Lord slowly materialized in front of them, along with a portal which presumably led back to Hyrule. Lukas could only stare as his old friend checked himself over, walked over to Lukas, and outstretched his arm.  
  
“Lukas, Thomas, it's good to see you.”  
  
* * *  
  
“How did you get back?”  
  
They were at dinner in the great hall, where the Deku Lord was telling everybody about his journey. The cooks had prepared an enormous celebratory feast, including all the favourite foods of Lukas and the Deku Lord. It had been found out that in the sixty years he had spent in Hyrule, only three days had passed in Fluvari. Everybody had questions, of course.  
  
“Well, sixty years is a long time, mate. About fifty-five years after getting there, I stumbled upon a wooden structure over by Symmetry City-”  
  
“Symmetry City? How'd it get that name?”  
  
“The inhabitants do everything in twos, essentially. The village could have a line of symmetry drawn down it, and if the brother on one side does something, the other brother does it too, albeit according to symmetry. Anyway, the wooden structure was this ring made up by two bent trees. It was petrified, and had all sorts of symbols carved on it in our language. “  
  
Just then, a shadow flew through the doors of the great hall, shattering the doors and overturning tables in its wake. The sentries fired arrow after arrow, each shot as perfect and on-target as the last, but to no avail. It stopped at the far side of the hall, where it materialized upon the royal table in front of the now-standing Deku Lord. It was a Garo, different then the others in that it wore a purple robe and a silver helmet. Two blades smoothly slipped from under its sleeves, and it raised one to point at the Deku Lord's face.  
  
“You-” it started, but two arrowheads sprouted from its torso, one through each lung; the archers whose posts were the rafters of the great hall, never missed their mark. Never.  
  
 *** * * Afterlife – Present * * ***  
  
He'd barely rounded the first curve when he saw something new. At least, he thought that's what he saw, but it was hard to tell through all the rain, and his soaking clothes made it a bit hard to walk without getting tired. Perhaps tonight he would try sleeping with the log over him instead. However, as he progressed, he saw that the new thing was indeed real; it was a whole establishment, a large community – or so it seemed – enclosed in a large wooden fence. It leaned inward everywhere, some places moreso than others although never enough to climb over, and had been soaked so thoroughly that water ran freely down it all sides giving it the effect of a slow waterfall and a slight shimmer from the barely visible moon. That was all the light he ever got, that moon. Hardly enough to see where he was going, much less make out the newly-found gate from more than an arm's distance away. The gate, it seemed, was the only part of the fence not leaning, and had two watch towers on each side, each roofed and each with a burning torch barely being shielded from the rain.  
  
“Welcome to Krynditch; we've been expecting you.”  
  
 *** * * Fluvari – Present * * ***  
  
“It's deeply disturbing to me that Garo have begun to infest our kingdom. Granted, our guards can probably handle it, certainly moreso thnt those Hylian rookies, but it's still a pain. And you say this sort of thing never happened before I came back?”  
  
“No.” The Deku Lord, Lukas, and the Royal Council were finally in conference over the issue, after a prolonging of twenty-five days that had the Deku Lord fuming. Several more attacks had taken place, mainly on the castle.  
  
“You realize that if these things did indeed come back with me, from Ikana, _from the bloody past_ , then Hyrule has probably already succumbed to these things, right? If three days for us is sixty for them, what does that tell you about _twenty-five days_ , Council?”  
  
“My Liege..” the Council Head started.  
  
“I don't want to hear it. The Ignotris Colony _always_ makes empty threats, and you still had to take _twnty-five days, **five hundred Hyrulean years** to come to the simple decision to post a **sentry? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MINDS?**_ ”  
  
Just then, Thomas burst through the door with the news that the portal was fluctuating. The Lord and Butler hurried out of the room; the rest of the Council, however, was too afraid to move, lest they get chewed out further upon their arrival.  
  
The portal was indeed fluctuating. It would grow and then decrease, glow brighter and then reduce itself, the edges swirling slower, then faster, all of this happening at odd intervals. A whir could be heard from all around.  
  
“Jethro.”  
  
“On it.”  
  
He hurried off for the requested supplies; they'd already discussed the details of all possibilities concerning the portal, and from the tone of the Deku Lord's voice, Lukas knew what his friend had opted to do. This time, he would have a companion in the foreign land.  
  
“Thomas.”  
  
“Yes, sire?”  
  
“You're in charge until we return. You're by far the best qualified, but don't let it go to your head. At the same time, do not be too lenient; you'll know when that is as well.”  
  
“Yes, sire.”  
  
Jethro returned.  
  
“Shall we, Jethro?”  
  
“Indeed, we shall.”  
  
“Give no quarter to the Garo, Thomas. I want my kingdom intact when we return.”  
  
“Yes, sire!”  
  
With that, they both dropped into the portal. They did not know what would lie before them, as neither of them had enough experience in dealing with inter-planar travel. As luck would have it, they would be deposited in the Lost Woods, but these were certainly not the same woods the Deku Lord would remember.  
  
 *** * * Hyrule – Present * * ***  
  
They materialized in Kokiri Village, not a stone's throw from where the shop once stood. The village, they saw, had been sacked and burned, and there were a few Garo moving about the area in their shadow forms; Jethro tossed a Deku Nut, and the Garo fled. The trees were unresponsive to any communication, and the rotten Great Deku Tree stood across a now levelled field.  
  
“We should find Mervil.”  
  
“What makes you think he'll want to help you five hundred years in the future? The bastard probably doesn't even remember you.”  
  
“Nevertheless, we must seek him out. There is safety in numbers against the Garo, especially with warriors like you, Mervil, and I.”  
  
“His old house?”  
  
“His old house.”


	7. Chapter Six: Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes: Err...the second part will be edited sometime in the future, just kinda busy right now. Enjoy peeps. 5000 words of food.

Stars dotted the sky, and the fat, full moon sat amongst them. Most in the hamlet had gone to their own beds, but in the single inn in town, dim light still showed in the window. It was called the Prophet’s Corner, and most people that lived there called it a bar, but the man who ran the establishment knew better. There was a second floor with rooms, and that was what made it an inn, though hardly anyone stayed there through the night, it was still Cyro’s pride and joy, because it was his inn. Not some lord’s or a rich merchant's, his! And he was one of the few landowners in this part of Hyrule.  
  
Within the Prophet's Corner it was business as usual. Only a few men (and even less women) sat at the tables at such a late hour, and most would soon return home to tend the flocks and start the harvest. Maids scurried about, sometimes stopping to speak with a man that caught their eyes or a woman they knew, and they knew everyone, but liked some more than others. Yet, there was one particular man sitting at the bar with an untouched cup of warm cider that did not fit in with the average farmer, shepherd, or housewife.  
  
No, he was a noble from Kakariko dressed in a knee-long, green tailcoat with a long sword on his belt. Cyro had never seen him without the thing, he’d even seen him use it once, but that was in practice. There never was trouble at his inn; it was too far out of the way to attract the average scum, but tonight something was off, but Cyro did not know what. Then he realized that the noble stared at his drink, like he had from the moment Ella the maid had poured him the drink.  
  
“It’s gone cold.” Cyro said, but the man did not look up. “Are you there Kazar?”  
  
Hazel eyes peered up at him; eyes curiously older than his young face, but Kazar had spoken of the wars of a distant land. Wars aged men, made them mad, but Cyro had never seen a drop of insanity in him except this constant need to come to a small inn in a little hamlet. Maybe that was the insanity that his old mother had spoken of, but she’d been worse than his friend had ever been.  
  
“I was only thinking...," Kazar said, speaking with a faint accent.  
  
“I didn’t realize that noblemen did that.” One of the maids laughed, then began cleaning something off his precious, polished floors. Why did people always have to spill on them?  
  
That familiar twinkle returned to Kazar’s eyes. “It hurts our minds too much most of the time.”  
  
“Tell me,” Cyro took the noble’s glass and replaced it with cup of steaming cider. “Then you won’t have such a headache in the morning.”  
  
He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Heh. I always have them. Usually from the damn drinking.”  
  
“But you never drink enough to make yourself drunk!” Cyro gave the cold cider to one of the maids. She glanced at it then hurried into the kitchen.  
  
“Are you saying that’s something nobles never do?” The man took a sip, and Cyro almost started dancing, but stopped. What would Kazar think of him if he danced because he was drinking hot cider? Losing a valued customer was one thing, but losing a valued friend was quite another, and Kazar was a noble after all. Nobles, even good ones, had strange opinions and habits that common men did not understand.  
  
 _Nor do I want to_ , Cyro reminded himself. “Of course not, but you don’t. Now, stop avoiding the subject and tell me what you were thinking, young sir.”  
  
Kazar smiled. “Damn, you would pull that trick eventually.”  
  
“What do you mean, “trick”?” Cyro asked. “I’m certainly older than you.”  
  
“Maybe,” He said. “But, ya certainly are fatter.”  
  
“Some men…,” Cyro glared. He was avoiding it again. Kazar could lead any man or woman on a different topic with one word and they wouldn’t notice until they couldn’t remember what the original topic was. This time, Cyro would not fall for the noble’s trickery. Not even if he had to bet half his good wine for it. “You’re doing it again. If you don’t tell me…”  
  
“You’ll throw me out?” That smirk screamed challenge. “I doubt it, but do you see those two men in the back?” He pointed over his shoulder at two men, setting at a table in a dark corner.  
  
Cyro frowned. “Have never seen them in these parts before. They claimed to be merchants, but of what, I don’t know. They weren't selling anything but junk.”  
  
“Those bloody fools are plotting murder of that gent there in the red coat.” He turned and nodded towards a man who had only just entered the inn. Red-clad asked for a cup of something warm from Ella. The maid gave him a quick smile and disappeared into the kitchen. Even from here, Cyro could swear there was something familiar about the man, but he couldn’t name what. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and not too tall, then his eyes landed on Kazar.  
  
“Is he your brother or something?”  
  
“All my brothers are dead.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cyro. “Didn’t I tell you that?”  
  
“Don’t worry. Just forgot, my friend.” After Cyro patted Kazar’s back, the noble looked back at the man. “Why do you think they want to kill him? Master red-clad over there hasn’t been in here for ten minutes yet.”  
  
Kazar spoke in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. “I walked by them earlier. There’s a torn flyer at their table with a name and that man’s face. The reward on it is 15,000 rupees.”  
  
With his hands raised, Cyro declared: “That could make a man rich! Do you know how much—” He suddenly realized that several eyes were looking his way, then quickly picked up a bottle of wine and began to scrub it.  
  
“Don’t be so damn selfish.” Kazar warned. “The name of that man is ‘William Desepercion’. Some say that he is an innocent man tricked by the government to kill a fellow knight, others think him as guilty as Arivis.”  
  
“What about you?” He rubbed the back of his hand.  
  
“Never spoke with him,” The noble replied. “But I think that whatever did happen isn’t the same as what the government reported. All I know is that those men want riches; they’ll murder anyone if that would give it to them.”  
  
One of the men in the back pointed to the man Kazar had labeled William Desepercion and the other reached for a short sword at his side. He wore a toothy grin. At that moment, William took up his glass, and with one quick motion, he drained the cider. Cyro watched William leave then whispered in Kazar’s pointed ear, “He didn’t even pay for his drink.”  
  
There was no reply. The two men sitting abruptly stood and Cyro gasped. Behind the man with the short sword was a dark haired man with a scarf hiding his face and a knife in hand. He slit the man’s throat, and blood sprinkled onto his beautiful, polished floor. Tears clouded his eyes, he had worked so hard to afford it and now, he had to save it.  
  
Cyro didn’t notice the two men leaving his inn, nor the others that followed them. Only the blood, he left the bar behind and bent over, yelling at Ella to get a bucket of soap and hot water. The maid didn’t move, he raised his head again to yell at her once more, but a fist slammed into his face before he could speak. His nose broke. There, glaring at him beside the body of the fallen man was Kazar, face like stone and lips flat. Angry.  
  
“Is all that you care about your damn floors and your damn money?” His voice was unusually cold. “For a while, I thought this might be the only place better than the rest of Hyrule. Guess that was a mistake.” He bent over the body and took the man’s wrist in his hand. A sigh escaped his lips. Kazar closed the stranger’s eyes and whispered something in a tongue Cyro had never heard before, at least not from his friend. If he could call him friend, that was.  
  
 _When you sin against your friend_ , he remembered his mother saying, _they become your enemy._  
  
“I…” Cyro began, but stopped, and bent down beside the man. His stomach twisted inside of him and he felt vile in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t throw up. Not in front of Ella or any of the remaining guests. It didn’t matter that he had never been a brave man; this was his inn, and here he was the leader. “Let me help, I’ll bury the man. You should go after those men or that Will fellow. Or whatever it is you do when you’re not here. This is my inn, so this is my duty. Forget about the money and the stupid floors.”  
  
Kazar straightened himself. “I’ll make sure you get your rupees.”  
  
Then he left, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Cyro shivered, but returned to his work. Kazar would do what he had to do.  
  
***  
  
“Kazar”, as he was called here and now, stepped into the moonlit night, spotting several new footsteps in the muddy street heading into the forest at the edge of the hamlet. No other houses were lit, not even the single watchtower to the north where the useless guards should’ve kept the light lit in case of attack or trouble. He walked into the stable connected to the Prophet’s Corner. It was the only one in town, and only a few horses were there, all asleep except for the one in the back which crunched on some oats Cyro’s son had given it early that night. The boy had always liked the mare.  
  
Spotting the boy lying in the hay stack, Kazar smiled. One of his long legs dropped over the side, while his head lay on his arms. Fresh growth was on his face, and the nobleman scratched the back of his head. When had Cyro’s boy gotten so damn old? He sighed, then headed over to his horse and taped the rough of his mouth with his tongue. Suddenly wishing he had drank more of the cider before the event.  
  
The mare looked up, glaring at him with dark blue eyes and her black tail swished, hitting the bucket of water. Kazar looked back at the boy, but he did not even stir or move. He breathed a sigh of relief, and opened up the stable door. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a sugar cube and feed it to the mare, patting her nose. A moment later, he had jumped into her saddle, a wicked grin on his face.  
  
“You’re leaving already, Mr. Kaz?” He turned to look up at the boy. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing had quickened.  
  
Cursing himself for not noticing earlier, Kazar sighed. Why did the boy have to choose that nickname for him? He hated it. “Yes. Ummm, you should go help your father.”  
  
“C’mon.” He sat up. “You said the next time I could go with ya and Tapper.”  
  
“Me and Tapper have some important business to do.” He ran his hand through the mare’s mane. “Damn kid. Can’t you just wait?”  
  
The boy glared. “It’s always important, but I’m not ten anymore. I might as well be your age.”  
  
“No. You’re not.” Kazar lightly tapped Tapper’s flanks with his boots. “There was a man murdered in your father's inn tonight, and Cyro has to clean it up.” He heard the boy’s gasp. “Is that adventure enough for you, Blite?”  
  
Blite nodded and ran for the inn. It was a good thing he was still only fifteen. Kazar left the stable, kicking Tapper’s flanks once they were out in the moonlight and entered the forest. He felt his stomach twist, it was this place again. The Lost Woods, where a soul could wander for an eternity and never find its way out again. It had taken over several of the older providences of Hyrule that Arivis had destroyed in the old war, including old Kakariko, but those were olden days. What man should remember them?  
  
Then a booming sound pierced the night. He stopped. What was that? _Bang!_ Gunshots. Tapper’s eyes spun, he could see the whites. Speaking gently into her ears, Kazar turned her in that direction, keeping her at a steady trot whilst watching and listening out for anything odd in the woods. You could never be too careful in this place, an evil Stalfos or some other demented spirit could rush in and attack at any given time.  
  
There, in the midst of a small clearing in the woods, a man laid on the ground with several others around him. He bled from a sword wound that would kill him in a few hours if not properly treated, but the man next to him would not give him that chance. William spun one gun and shot the man between the eyes; emotionless. He did not enjoy the killing.  
  
The moment Will turned his back on the man; Kazar lifted his feet out of the stirrup and slipped down from Tapper’s back, patting her black neck. Her dark coloring would hide her well, even on a night like this.  
  
Will walked a way from the men, then took the monocle off and placed it in his pocket, the sound of his voice reaching Kazar’s ears as he slowly followed the man, taking out his longsword. “Say hello to the rest of the trash like you in the afterlife for me, I won’t be reaching that place anytime soon.”  
  
“Your damn overconfidence is starting to become a bit annoying.” He posed his longsword in position to kill the man, but did not touch his flesh.  
  
Will reached for his gun. “Who are you?”  
  
“If you take it, your head’s on the ground.” Kazar warned. “I’m not interested in killing you, but by Arivis’ grave, I don’t trust you.”  
  
Will took the gun out of its holster, but before he could shot; Kazar slammed the flat side of his longsword into his hand. The gun spun and hit a tree, but managed to land beside Will’s right foot. He spun; hand taking out his other gun and pointing it at his attacker, but the longsword’s steel touched his neck. They were both on edge.  
  
Kazar swore. Up close, William looked like he could have been his brother. The same hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and only a half-inch shorter than him. His face was not too far off from his either, just too narrow and the nose too thin, but all of his brothers were dead. They’d died long ago in a war that none but he and a few others would now truly remember.  
  
“Where…how…what the hell?” Will blinked, but held onto the gun. “I don’t have any brothers.”  
  
"I suppose so." No monocle. Kazar smiled. “You’ve already lost, kid. Even nobles like me hear things, and you’ve got none of those shiny eyepieces on your eye. Give up.”  
  
“Not against men like you.” He fired a shot, but it went wide, flying past Kazar’s left ear. Shrugging, he’d already lost most of the hearing in that one anyways; too many canons and too many wars. He kicked Will’s hand with his foot, causing the man to drop his gun; landed, and shoved the man, tripping him over his other gun. Wide eyes stared up at him, but he banished the fear and glared at the sword Kazar pointed at his throat.  
  
“Didn’t I say I will not kill you?” He asked.  
  
“Heh.” Will mocked. “Noblemen’s promises are like getting water instead of wine. They’re all lies.”  
  
Switching hands, Kazar cut Will’s belt and swung it over his shoulder. He grabbed one of the guns, frowned, and aimed it at Will before he could get up. “I’ll give these back, but you must trust me.”  
  
“Why would I do that?” Will stood, warily watching the gun as Kazar picked up the other one.  
  
Laughing, Kazar grabbed the man’s wrist. “You could say you have no choice. Do you even know where you are?”  
  
“You’d probably lie about it.”  
  
“Damn, you got me there.” He smiled mischievously. “I’m Kaz, the thief turned hero of legend! And you’re William, knight turned fugitive because of a crime I bet you didn’t commit or something along those lines.”  
  
Will stared, taking a step back, but did not run. This man was too brave for his own good, Kazar decided. “Alright, alright. I get the point. Where are we?”  
  
“You’ve traveled to the edge of Hyrule field and entered the woods there.” Kazar tossed him his guns and belt. The man took them, throwing the cut belt over his shoulder and placing the guns in their holsters. “I’m sure you’re smarter than a foolish, old noble.”  
  
“It’s the Lost Wood.” The statement was cold and blunt. “Weren’t you that man talking to the innkeeper?”  
  
Kazar nodded. “It was a good choice since you knew these men were after you, but really! I’d think a man like you could’ve taken these arses out in the open field. Though, it might’ve been a bit harder and you could’ve gotten more than a nick.”  
  
Will nodded and leaned against a tree, putting on a monocle by the shallow moonlight had that flowed towards him through the leaves. “Is that why you followed me?”  
  
“No.” Kazar called to Tapper and the black mare stood by his side, she blew through her nostrils in anger. “Dumb, overprotective horse,” she nipped his hair, chewing on it like grass. Will watched them, but did not laugh. People his age should, Kazar thought. Bloody fools.  
  
“Well?”  
  
“I saw a girl killed for aiding a criminal that hadn’t committed any crime. Around three years ago, I think.” Kazar explained. “Heartless bastard, where I’ve been—I mean, come from—they’d have only given her five years of servitude to a country lord.”  
  
“Why would you say that?” He sat against the tree now, looking upwards. “He killed a man.”  
  
“He did it because that man was doing wrong. I should remember. It was the same night as the Autumn Festival, and the feast and celebration had only begun three hours before. They celebrated a bloody war and a bloody victory they don’t even believe happened! But, on that night, that knight stole from a young woman and grabbed her by the hair. He would have raped her, had it not been for another knight coming from a rumored bachelor party held on the same night as the Festival. In the old days, that would’ve been a bloody controversy.  
  
“They crossed swords, while the young lady ran away. I got her out of there. I’m not sure what happened next, but, I suppose he’s dead now. Am I correct?”  
  
“Where were you then?” Will asked. “When Klaus held court and convicted me of death. You could’ve stopped this whole thing.”  
  
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Kazar said. He hated topics like this, but he couldn’t hide forever. Maybe a Stalfos would take him by then. “There’s only a couple hours 'til dawn.”  
  
Will pulled out a gun. “Damned nobleman, tell me now and I’ll spare your life.”  
  
Staring down the barrow, Kazar shrugged. “I couldn’t, that High Cleric knows the Prophecy and the Heroes better than they know themselves. I think. You know, though, not even heroes are always brave, and as Kazar I’m too low in the ranks of the nobility for my voice to make a difference in a case against a high ranking knight and that girl was only a peasant. Yet, I’ve searched you out to fix whatever I can.” He said the last part mostly to himself, “Heh, this is a worse pickle than the last one. That time I was just a thief.”  
  
“You expect me to believe that? They should all be dead.” Will laughed bitterly, but placed the gun back in its holster.  
  
“Yes,” Kazar agreed. “I feel like it sometimes, but the next time someone writes up a legend based around real events they should explain certain things better, but it was Naomi’s damn fault.”  
  
Ignoring him, Will looked up at Tapper. “Do you have an extra roll, Kaz?”  
  
His ears twitched. “Don’t call me that.” Kaz threw the roll at Will’s face and sat beside a different tree, longsword in hand. “I’ll take watch; it’s almost sunup. So, get some sleep. We’ll head towards Kakariko in the morning.”  
  
“Kakariko?” Will asked. “Are you mad? There’s a thousand people that could recognize me there!”  
  
Kaz leaned against the tree and smiled. “They’d all beleive you’re my cousin or brother or some other kind of relative. Never thought I’d meet my double and live to tell about it.”  
  
“We don’t look that much alike.” Now, Will was lying down, with his hands folded behind his head, his eyes half closed, but he would sleep lightly with a man he did not trust nearby. Kaz knew this, he could remember nights sleeping amongst the others, never getting more than a light sleep because of Mervil, and later, it was due to other men and women. Trust was never easy to gain when the man held a sword, or worse, had tried to kill you the first time he met you. William opened an eye, “Alright, maybe you are right. How the hell did this happen?”  
  
Kaz shrugged. “Good question, but you know what? Have you ever tried not worrying about things too much? It might do you some good…”  
  
***  
  
The first rays of sun had broken past the horizon, but here in the Lost Woods, sunlight had yet to reach them, only the gray, misty twilight with its ethereal glow lit their way. Will shifted his eyes from one tree to another, then back to the doppelganger and his horse as he led the way. Kaz halted and looked around, Will soon stood beside him, watching as a frown grew on the man’s face.  
  
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Will asked. “I swear those were our footprints back there.”  
  
“Hmmm.” That was the only answer he had gotten since they left camp that morning, but this time, Kaz gave him a side-ways glance. “They were too old and there wasn’t a sign of Tapper, but I think you might be right,” Kaz said. “We’re not lost enough to become Stalfos or Poes, but, by Navi, I can’t make heads or tails of this place.”  
  
William stared at him. “And you’ve gotten us more lost than I would’ve by myself?”  
  
Then the leafs and branches above them rustled and William's heart pounded. Someone...or something was hunting them, and Will wished he had gone through Hyrule Field, then he would not be in this mess with a madman and his horse.  
  
Tapper pranced, Will reached for his guns, and Kaz looked up into the canopy of foliage above them and hand on his sword hilt. Two Stalfos leaped out of the trees, one with its sword pointed downward. Will fired a shot and it skull spun off through the trees, whist Kaz sidestepped the other at the last moment, its sword smashed into the tree behind him. It took the spear off its back and its red eyes glowed with pleasure. With a mighty thrust, it charged forward, but before it reached Kaz, Tapper slammed her front hooves into its boney body; breaking its skull and ribs into a thousand pieces. That Stalfos would need the luck of the goddesses to ever be whole again.  
  
“Don’t let down your guard.” Kaz kept his sword at the readied. “In a place like this…” From the shadows of the underbrush a Stalfos’ blade flew towards him. Sparks flied, then they came apart, but before Will could shoot, he heard another Stalfos charging him from behind. He blocked it with his sheathed sword, and parried to the side. They circled around each other and it swung wide, but William ducked the blow, taking its legs out with his short sword. Then he took its head. It rolled upon the ground, the red lights gone from it. He looked over at Kaz. Tapper had fled.  
  
Three more surrounded him, now, and Kaz took one of their heads off, turned around, blocked another blow and leaped a low cut. He had to help him; Kaz was bleeding from a wound in his right arm. Will took a step forward, but a chill ran down his back, he turned around, only to find himself face to face with a giant Stalfos with old skin and muscle clinging to yellowed bones. It held a ball-and-chain in hand and dark laughter ruptured from its skull. The giant twirled its weapon in the air, twice, but it ignored Will, instead, its eyes focused on Kaz. The man looked up, cursing as he threw the third Stalfos back to hell.  
  
“Damn it.” He rolled to the side as it swung its ball at him, destroying a tree and three other Stalfos that were hiding within. Will readied his gunsword and leaped, aiming for its back, but he never made it. A bony had caught him mid-leap and he found himself confronting the giant’s twin. The monster held a curved and rusted sword.  
  
“Stupid humans,” it said. Its voice was dark and monotone; only a mockery of a man’s. “Now, you shall die for your crimes!”  
  
The giant Stalfos lifted its blade; a bird screeched and a spear of light shot through the hand that held Will. He dropped, closed his eyes, and readied himself for the impact with the ground. For a moment, he black out, but then felt something grab him. A bird? That was ridiculous, but they landed in the nearest tree.  
  
It was a woman with golden wings and yellow beak, but William did not care, Kaz needed his help! He prepared to jump back into the thrall.  
  
“Don’t you think of jumping, mate,” She said. “You won’t wake up.” Then, with a single, graceful leap, she took to the air, diving at the Stalfos that had held him a moment before. She flew around it, avoiding its blade. The bird-woman reminded him of a little mosquito trying to bring down a full grown man. What chance did she have? She found an opening and stabbed her spear into its chin. Light flashed, blinding Will. The giant Stalfos’ head fell off, dissipating into darkness before it hit the ground. Its body was gone a moment later and she fluttered there, catching her breathe.  
  
“Aren’t you going to help him?”  
  
“Can’t ye give me a moment?” She shouted. “He’s already got some.”  
  
Will looked over at the other giant Stalfos, and saw a man dressed in blue by Kaz's side. He was whispering something in Kaz’s ear, and Kaz nodded, then they dodged the ball and chain, heading in seperate directions. The Stalfos looked from side to side, unsure of which one he wanted to attack.  
Suddenly, the woman snatched him by his collar, for a moment, he felt like a man hanging from a tree awaiting death.  
  
“You shoot.” She commanded, but William stomach twisted as she flew. How could she expect him to like this? Vomit; he tasted it in the back of his throat and his hand shook. No, his whole body did. Despite himself, he pulled back the trigger, willing a little magic into shot.  
  
It missed. Will stared. The giant Stalfos turned around and face them, the grin on its face growing even larger, but as it did; it fell, caught up in its own chain. Kaz jumped on its back, ran up the spinal cord, and severed its head from the spine. He leaped off a second later, landing on the blighted ground as the monster faded to dust. The wind came along and swept it away.  
  
Silence feel over the meadow and the first rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves. They landed on the ground and Kaz, along with the blue-clad man, finally reached them. The later sporting a limp.  
  
“You should’ve ran, kid.” Kaz said. “I don’t give a damn that you can fight, but I didn’t let you live only to have you die a moment later.”  
  
“I don’t run from my battles.” Will said, “Unlike you.”  
  
“What, even when you have no choice? Sometimes, it’s better—”  
  
“Sometimes,” the other man interrupted. “It’s best to leave this for another time and place, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
William and Kaz both stared. This man had the face of a farmer, not a diplomat. That square face, auburn hair, and grey eyes could have allowed him to fit into any farming community in the mist Hyrule. Only, they would have to dress him in brown and gray wools to make him fit in; no farmer would ever wear blue and white.  
  
“Indeed. You’re Jaros?” Kaz asked and the man nodded; he turned to the woman and held up his arm. “Naomi, could you?”  
  
She opened the small pack at her side and took out a knife, slicing his sleeve from his coat. Bright, red blood still bled from the wound, but Naomi cleansed it with water from a wineskin. Light, dim and golden, came from her hand as she gently ran it above the wound, never touching the skin. It was unlike what Will had seen the healers hired in Hyrule do, most of them had used either potions or had to touch the person’s flesh. The latter skill could only heal small cuts and bruises, but this, Will had never seen that large of a wound heal so much from only magic. It was only a long cut now, it would not require snitching. It might not even leave a scar.  
  
William would have preferred that it had.  
  
“He hates you as much as you hated Mervil.” Naomi touched a small, black heart on her necklace. Will remembered the legends stating she only added one once someone had die, but every child born in Hyrule knew Mervil had lived. That was undisputable.  
  
“Can you blame him?” Kaz asked and she shook her head. “He isn’t that different from how I was. Once.”  
  
“Oh?” Jaros asked with raw curiosity in his silver eyes. “Why is that?”  
  
William frown, he weren't they done yet? This wasn't the place for happy reunions. “Let’s go,” Will stated. “I’ve had enough of these woods for one day.”


	8. Chapter Seven: Premonitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: DarthCitrus

The Great Hall of Kakariko stood silhouetted, dark against the pale colors of sunrise. It was built on the highest point of the city and it stood, looming, a physical representation of the authority its aged walls carried. From the intricate stonework of its courtyard, to the tall outer columns that supported the circular structure, the Great Hall was privy to the most clockwork routine of administrational affairs. Everyday saw the same parade of men and women, Hylian and creature, master and servant, entering the grounds in the subjugation of some task that would soon be forgotten in a manner of days.  
  
The menial tasks of daily life were all that troubled the Great Hall. In essence, it was a reflection of the very hallmark of Kakariko City. This was the city where the sluggard could find refuge, merchant feared not for his goods and the people cared for nothing save their own droll activities. In a land fraught with turmoil, corruption and banditry, Kakariko stood as the alone bastion of the ordinary, unexciting Hyrule.  
  
Except for today, today the Great Hall was in a commotion.  
  
Harried men, in various states of anger and confusion, weaved around the assembly hall, consorting with each other in a confused rabble. Soldiers attempted to maintain a sense of order; simultaneously directing people and redirecting any questions asked of them. Outside what had been a handful of watchmen had become a full standing guard, men stationed in a tight parameter both inside and outside, as if their exertions would atone for the missteps that occurred during the night.  
  
Darius watched all of this with cold amusement, surveying the confusion below. To call an assembly of the house lords had never been done in such a haphazard way in the history of the Great Hall. Noblemen expected to arrive in a calm reserved fashion, preparing once more to out do each other in both their fealty and grandeur of service to Hyrule. They did not arrive in various states of dress, ushered from their sleep before dawn to answer a summons. The proud and collected nobility were being exposed at a human level, and they resented it. For all of their wealth and power, they still were subject to the master of the hall; it was a reminder they were apt to forget. The only way to salvage what dignity remained lay in the treatment of the soldiers. They demanded answers and refused profusely to take their seats. It was an absurd commotion and Darius enjoyed every bit of it. The fellow scribes standing next to him also watched with amusement, but without speculative gossip. Scribes were chosen because they could keep a level head; in times like these, it was a trait well appreciated.  
  
From his vantage point, Darius maintained a clear view of the filling assembly hall. A marble pathway, continually funneling a torrent of people, was laid from the entrance of the chamber, to the stone dais on the far end. On the left of the path stood the raised seats of the Sheikah, the ancient race whose history had long been entwined with the city and its surroundings. Directly opposite on the path’s right, were the elevated seats of the nobility, men and women who acquired power through wealth and political manipulations. Each side had its own elevated podium, from this they addressed, or more commonly attacked, the other side in heated debate. The podiums were situated in the middle of stands and were level with the stone dais itself. It was here at this dais, the Master of Kakariko, Master of the Great Hall and its assembly, mediated and attempted to keep the peace between the two conflicting sides. Watching all of these proceedings, were the scribes, standing top the encircling balcony. As far as the Sheikah and nobility were concerned, the scribes only existed to keep records of the assemblies for the archives. Darius was fine with that assumption, only the master of the hall knew of their true purpose.  
  
A bell peel sounded across the chamber, hushing the crowd and drawing attention to the dais. Master Orilieus took his customary place, flanked on either side by his Sheikan honour guards. The aged man was dressed in fine blue robes laced with gold trim, befitting his station. The crimson eye of Kakariko was emblazed prominently on the front, it’s stare directed towards the now silent crowd. The honour guards stood silently in their traditional Sheikan garb, unflinching as always upon the podium. Darius did not expect anything out of the ordinary, but still respected the guards for never showing a drop emotion in any circumstance.  
  
The master of the hall raised his hands and began speaking in a slow sombre tone. “Friends, I apologize for the unconventional convening of this assembly, but a matter of great urgency must be discussed. Tonight, someone has committed the most arduous and reprehensible act, of breaking into the archives and stealing the Seeking Stone of the Arbiters. This assembly has been called to deal with the perpetrator and to restore the item to its proper caretakers” Confused whispers rippled through the crowd and even the austere balcony of scribes allowed glances to be exchanged, breaking composure for a brief moment. A man dressed in a dark red tunic, stood up from his seat and took the podium of the nobility.  
  
“Master Orilieus,” he began, “I understand this break in would be of importance to the caretakers of the archives. Such an act is condemnable, there is no argument here. The object itself however is an artifact of little importance to this city on a whole. So why was it necessary to convene the entire assembly to discuss this?” The nobles voiced their approval and nodded their heads in communal agreement. “Furthermore, the actions today taken by the hall were of the most discourteous nature. If soldiers are to be used to summon us to counsel, then so be it, but we will not be treated as a herd of cattle! We are nobility, not some common thief to be paraded around by the authority of common guards!” The nobles erupted into cheers, again in agreement with the speaker. A middle aged Sheikah took the other podium.  
  
“A most grievous offence has been committed against this assembly,” she began, “Someone has dared to break into our sacred archives and plunder it like a common graverobber. All you can care about is the inconvenience of the summoning. No wonder people see the nobles as a callous, rapacious lot; your pride and your money are all you care about.”  
  
The Great Hall burst into shouting. Accusations and insults hurled across the marble pathway. Soldiers moved to the hold back the more ambitious folk, attempting to exchange more than just words. The quartermaster sounded the bell repeatedly in an attempt to restore order.  
  
“Perhaps, if a new master were to be chosen, the city was under attack, or the king had just died,” shouted the noble in red, “If a call to arms had been issued, or the great demon had returned! That would be a valid reason to convene this assembly at this hour! But a worthless artifact is stolen from the archives, and the whole city must hear about it! Shall we do this when a more trifling matter occurs in the middle of the night? There is no reason this could not have waited until midday!”  
  
“This assembly is for the benefit of the nobles,” replied the Sheikah coldly. “Midday would be far too late for my men and it would not do to have them search through your homes without informing you of it first.”  
  
Before the stunned nobility could respond, Master Orilieus’s voice issued forth from the dais. “The Seeking Stone of the Arbiters is something that has not been important to this assembly for a long time, you are correct Lord Illian. However, it is an object of great significance to the Sheikah, who take it upon themselves to recover the object personally. They have called this assembly to exercise their right of royal perquisition.”  
  
At this, the nobility once more broke out in shouting, the man at the podium looking furious. “Royal perquisition?!” Lord Illian sputtered, “Do they think the nobility will remain idle, while they ransack our homes and interrogate our family all in the name of some archaic royal degree?! Let the garrison reclaim it! No one should be above the law, much less them!”  
  
“That stone was entrusted to my forerunners _personally_ by the royal family,” replied the Sheikah coolly. “We failed to keep it safe and so we must atone for our error. Perhaps honour is something that means nothing to you, but we still recognize and respect it. The Seeking Stone will return to the safeguard of my people and no one, save the royal family, will stop us from using any methods to repossess it. Not this assembly, not this city and especially not the reproach of a corrupt, self indulgent, dull-minded fool of a nobility!  
  
At this the Great Hall erupted. Soldiers were no longer capable of holding back the flood of nobles and Sheikah converging in the center. Noblemen fought to reach the podium of the opposing speaker; the disciplined Sheikah moved to bar their way. Clambering, threats and angry shouts drowned out the long suffering Master Orilieus’s attempt at restoring order. With a resigned look, the master of the hall signaled the quartermaster to clear the assembly, exiting into his chamber behind the dais. Additional soliders had been called in to deal with the riot. Simultaneously, they separated the two sides, forcing members outside.  
  
The scribes were the only members to leave the chamber willingly, taking care to avoid the commotion. Darius waited outside the Great Hall, while a tangled flood of soldiers, noblemen and Sheikah poured out of its doors. Weariness was etched on all of the guard’s faces. News of this mess would soon reach the ears of the streets. It wouldn’t be long before a long night turned into an even longer day. The garrison was already stretched thin, extra men stationed to blockade the city’s gates. The soldiers would certainly have their hands full if this riot carried on onto the streets. Darius pitied them, if only slightly.  
  
The sun was already one handbreadth above the horizon before the guards managed to clear away the last of the nobles. Darius turned to enter the assembly hall again, this time along the main floor. He circled around the dais at the end marble pathway, and entered the large oak doors behind it.  
  
Orilieus sat alone at his desk, writing something with great haste. The room he had called his own for years now, had seen its share of tired masters; entering after violent assemblies to lock themselves away in books and letters. Once a grand place of respite, it had grown less and less ornate over the years. Fanciful weapons, arranged along the wall and ordained with precious stones, were beginning to rust and tarnish with age. The trim was worn and with the stone steps leading up his desk beginning to show cracks. Behind the aging Hallmaster, stood a once magnificent marble fireplace, now scored and soot ridden after centuries of use. In fact, the only attribute of the room that was still grand were the two large bay windows on either side of the fireplace, providing a breathtaking view of the city of Kakariko. It was a room designed to excite awe and wonder to those who were privileged to enter it. In these days, it only exacerbated the decay and ruination that plagued the leaders of Hyrule.  
  
“That went as well as could be expected,” mumbled Orilieus, still writing furiously, “No respect for history anymore Darius, no class. Hylians once revered the Sheikah; they trusted them with their well being. The shadowfolk earned that right Darius; they weren’t made the guardians of the royal family for no reason.”  
  
Darius simply nodded. Master Orilieus was prone to rambling and even the most astute of conversationalists couldn’t dissuade him until he finished. “These are troubled times we live in lad. Banditry is rampant, the roads are no longer safe, and executions are becoming a common affair in the capital. Even here in Kakariko, I must constantly tread between the interests of the nobles and the Sheikah. Tell me, what do you make of the whole affair?”  
  
Darius straightened up, “The Sheikah are overreacting, Master Orilieus. This theft cannot be as important as they are making, noble as they are. Have you considered some ulterior motive?”  
  
Orilieus sighed, “Were it actually so scribe, I would rest easier. What do you know about the Seeking Stone of the Arbiters?”  
  
Darius paused before answering, “Not much, I know it allowed it’s wielder to seek out magical objects as a sort of compass.”  
  
“Not just magical objects,” replied Orilieus, laying out an aging tome on his desk, “Any significant source of magical energy, be it artifacts, assorted oddities or potions. Anything with significant magical strength could be sought out with this stone. Half of the archives are filled thanks to it. Half the annuals of the dead are filled because of it as well. Parties would delve deep into the Lost Woods, in search of an object and meet a creature also imbued with magic.” He turned to a page with a script Darius had never seen before. “In any case, our people could not properly control the thing, as we could not distinguish between monster and artifact. However, it’s shown those who created it could, and not only that, use it to search out anything they wanted! Could you imagine Darius?”  
  
“Yes. But why is this important, Hallmaster?” asked Darius impatiently.  
  
“Because scribe, the stone went cold almost three hundred years ago, our most valuable tool gone in an instant. The Sheikah still prized it, but to everyone else it was forgotten.” Master Orilieus stood up speaking animatedly, “Yet our thief, as he was chased by the guards, managed to navigate the maze of our archives with the light of that very stone. He somehow managed to activate the stone once more! We need to get the Seeking Stone back scribe, but more importantly we need to bring this thief in and find out how he did it.”  
  
An incredulous look flashed across Darius’s face, before he caught himself. “With respect Hallmaster, perhaps we are making too much out of this situation. What are the chances this random thief knows anything of magic? Most likely, he activated the stone out of duress or some other bit of fools luck. In any case, are you sure the guards are correct in what they saw?  
  
Master Orilieus furrowed his brow, “Yes I’m sure scribe, and even if I wasn't sure about the guards, I saw the figure itself in the courtyard. He may know what he did, or he may not, even worse, he may know exactly what he found and will try to use it to some end. In either case we must retrieve the object, and apprehend the thief.”  
  
He paused to glance at the open page before continuing, “The gates were sealed off while our man was being chased outside through the city, so I suspect he’s somewhere here in hiding. This whole situation with the Sheikah is unfortunate, but perhaps in can be used to our advantage. Their conflicts with the nobility won’t allow our friend to get too comfortable, and sooner or later he attempt to escape. When that happens, I want you there to bring him in.”  
  
Darius bowed slowly, resigned to his task. “As is spoken Master Orilieus. What does the thief look like?” Orilieus sat back down and closed the tome, “When find someone who is a head taller than you with red eyes, you’ll have found our man.” He raised his hand, palm outward towards Darius, “May Farore’s Wind set your path and guide true your hand, scribe.”  
  
“In service to my king and Hyrule,” replied Darius, completing the formality. He strode out of the door, past the raised dais of stone and the elevated seats of the assembly. Brilliant sunlight greeted his eyes as he exited the Great Hall and made his way across the courtyard. Darius stopped and looked for a long time at the city splayed out before him. Then, settling some internal debate, he departed, making his way down the curved path towards Kakariko to catch a thief.


	9. Chapter Eight: A Party of Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zetsuyout

It was an evening of celebration. Blood flying from an open wound and a judge’s gavel slamming fervently. He was now hiding from men he once called comrades; the distraught face of the only woman he had ever loved haunted his every step. Their promise to see each other again echoed in his bleak world, and the horror of learning of that woman’s death tore him to pieces.  
  
William awoke, sitting bolt upright, his breathing heavy and cold sweat stinging his eyes. He could hear a few birds whistling through the trees that were surrounding him like a prison. Only a few beams of sunlight managed to breach their thick canopy.  
  
He’d had several hours of sleep but didn’t feel like he was rested from it. This was the second time he had experienced that dream, that nightmare. Ever since he’d met that Kaz, Kazar, whatever his name was, it had brought up that horrible event. He had thought he had buried that beyond memory.  
  
Will got up and looked around their camp. Kazar and Naomi were still sleeping and Jaros stood a fair bit away on watch. His eyes swept the trio that had formed a group around what appeared to be William himself. It didn’t help but still leave him feeling like he was just tagging along for the ride.  
  
Thanks to that bizarre bird lady Naomi’s flying ability, they were now back on track to reaching Kakariko . . . which he didn’t want to go to if he could help it.  
Will sighed. Naomi had said they were about two days away now, thanks to Kazar leading them in the opposite direction. He had time to make up his mind about what he was going to do.  
  
Kaz and Naomi looked just like the ones from the legend and apparently _were the_ ones from the legend. Will still wasn’t sure whether he believed either of them. But it isn’t everyday you meet someone part bird and part human, and he saw in Kazar’s eyes many years more than his appearance betrayed.  
  
Kazar really rubbed him the wrong way. He seemed to feel higher than Will because he managed to best him without Will’s monocle. And he even knew that was why he won.  
Will half wished for a chance to show him who was the best. Although he knew such trivialities were childish, so he put the thought aside. At least Kazar could understand or try to understand where Will was at. Which was probably why Will had agreed to go along with him.  
  
Jaros noticed that he had woken and Will waved to him. He didn’t return the gesture. Jaros was a strange person, something about him felt nonhuman, but Will wouldn’t ask. He didn’t really feel comfortable around any of them. Will also noticed that there seemed to be a deep sadness between Naomi and Jaros, but this too, he decided was none of his business.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Once everyone was up and a small breakfast had been consumed, the party continued on their way. Naomi flew up ahead making sure they wouldn’t lose their way again.  
“So, what exactly is your reason for heading to Kakariko?” Will inquired of Kazar carefully.  
“Ah, I suppose you had to wonder what we’re leading you to eventually,” Kazar replied. “Why don’t we say it’s a surprise?” He grinned at Will suspiciously, and then proceeded to run up to where Naomi was, preventing Will from asking any more questions.  
Will bit his lip, “So arrogant,” he muttered ruefully under his breath.  
  
“You know he’s become a bit fond of you.” Will had forgotten about Jaros walking a few steps behind him until he spoke now.  
  
Still feeling annoyed William turned around, “What in Hyrule would make you think that?” he asked.  
“He said himself that you remind him of himself, especially I think, as his time as a criminal. I suppose he thinks of you like a younger brother, 500 years younger. Looking like you do, one would suspect some relation.”  
“Humph.” Will grunted, “I think I would know if I was related to such a great hero.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
Jaros continued, “Kazar lost a very dear friend of his to Arivis and has never really been able to replace him or be able to get particularly close to most people he’s known. If he’s picked you as a friend, whatever your opinion of him may be, you can be sure that he’s seen something worthwhile in you.”  
  
Will didn’t have anything else to say. After a brief moment they continued in silence.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Later that day they set up a camp just as the sun was beginning to set. All were grateful that that day’s trip had been majorly uneventful. Jaros, Naomi and Kazar sat round the fire while Will was assigned first watch. He stood completely still, his hands folded behind his back.  
  
Jaros got up and moved over to where Will was standing, he tried to hide the intrigued expression on his face.  
“I was wondering how exactly that magical contraption you have there works.” Jaros hinted.  
  
Will decided to be charitable and explain. “The Magic Shot,” he drew one from its holster on the belt hanging off his shoulder and held it by the barrel, “Works by taking a small portion of the wielder’s magical capacity compressing it and firing it when the trigger is pulled. This allows for a large amount of damage to be inflicted in a small space instead of a small amount of damage in a large space. I don’t know how it does this however, a friend of mine made it.”  
“May I?” Jaros asked holding out his hand.  
  
Will handed the weapon to him somewhat begrudgingly and directed him to point it into the trees. “Wait a few moments for the magic to charge, then fire.” He added.  
  
Jaros followed these instructions but as he pulled the trigger, an extremely bright light erupted from the tip of the barrel blinding Will and preventing him from seeing what everyone else saw now.  
“Get down!” Jaros yelled pushing Will to the ground as a knife flew through the space he just occupied.  
  
His vision returning Will saw the other members of the party taking defensive positions around the camp. Grabbing the gun Jaros had fired off the ground where he dropped it, he Jumped to his feet and unsheathed his Rapier. Will also noted now that he heard the common sound of swords being drawn in the forest around the camp.  
  
“Did you recognise them?” Naomi asked Kazar.  
“Yeah,” he replied, “just like Allanon.”  
  
Then almost faster than the eye could see, six hooded figures, all Garo, flew out of the forest at the group. Naomi flew up at one of the Garo and blocked its progress with her spear as two landed on either side of Kazar. One of them charged at him while the other jumped to the side. Kazar threw an under armed slash at the Garo, knocking it back and one of its blades into the air. Kazar grabbed the sword and swung it round at the second Garo who didn’t react in time to block and was sliced through the midsection, disappearing before it hit the ground.  
  
The first Garo having regained his composure, lunged at Kazar again, but was knocked aside with his sword flying into the air and was sliced symmetrically in half with his own. It too, vanished without a trace.  
  
The other three Garo had directed their attention at Will and Jaros. One dived directly at Jaros but he managed to block him with his small knife, only just holding it at bay. Another flew at Will from behind but he pointed his pistol over his shoulder into the Garo’s face and pulled the trigger, throwing it back to vanish in the shadows. The third Garo landed in front of Will and threw itself at him spinning around with its swords.  
Will blocked one strike with his gun and the other with his rapier, he kicked out at the Garo and it went sprawling. He seized the moment, lunged at the Garo and ran his sword through its body; it too disappeared a moment later.  
  
Jaros’s assailant jumped back and prepared to go again but Jaros formed a shining short sword and stabbed it into the Garo’s chest as it charged. Much like the others it also vanished.  
  
Naomi finally managed to push her opponent back, knocking away both its swords. She swung the blunt end of her spear round and hit it on the head knocking it to the earth.  
Naomi quickly flew down and pinned it to the ground with her spear. Kazar ran over to where Naomi held her Garo captive followed shortly by Jaros and Will.  
“Who are you, who sent you and how long have you been following us?” Kazar demanded.  
The Garo replied with one statement, “I have failed; Like all Garo must I die leaving no trace in this world.” The group heard a sickening chomp and blood soaked the Garo’s mask, a moment later it vanished.  
  
“I suggest we keep moving tonight.” Jaros proposed stepping away from the scene.  
  
Kazar stabbed the Garo’s blade into the ground and sheathed his own. “I agree, we can sleep in the morning when it’s harder for these Garo to hide.”  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
“Jaros . . . do you have any idea why the magic shot didn’t work properly for you?” Will asked cautiously after they had walked in total silence for a while. He had been worrying about it since shortly after the fight, but the awkward silence had made him not want to comment. At least not to until they were a fair way away from where they had been attacked.  
  
Jaros didn’t reply for a moment and Will thought he hadn’t heard him. Just as Will was about to speak again a bit louder, Jaros answered.  
“I suppose it’s because my magic is a tad different to yours.” He answered.  
  
Will gave him a confused look communicating that his explanation didn’t really explain anything.  
  
“Well you see I’m not a Hylian like you or Kaz,” Jaros continued, starting to add a dramatic flair to his words, “I am a Lyos, a being that heralds from the stars, centuries ago my people were worshipped and revered like go-,”  
“Spare us your wild tales Jaros.” Kazar interjected.  
  
“Let me have a little fun Kaz. He believed it too.”  
“I did not.” Will said dryly with a look of bored annoyance that had been on his face since Jaros had started spinning his tale.  
  
“Anyway,” Jaros extended, “the Lyos are a small group of people that live in the mountains that surround this land. We gain our magical ability by drawing power from the stars and what you saw being fired from your ‘magic Shot’ is what is probably our race’s most basic magic, Starburst. I suppose I’ll never be able to use an item as clever as that.”  
He then gave a disappointed sigh turned away and began focussing on walking again.  
  
“Dear Nayru, I’ve gotten caught up with an odd crowd here.” Will muttered.


	10. Chapter Nine: Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Blue55
> 
> Original notes: *Edit by DC. This was originally posted by ZE on behalf of Blue. I simply changed the post author to her account.*

She’d only come here for the small loaf of bread; here she was, back pressed against the stacks of cartons next to the angry merchant’s stall with a squirming fox that had bits of tin foil and a half-eaten sausage in its jaws wrapped around her arm. The few amused bystanders scattered around the area did nothing to relieve the tension. Life was so unfair.

“That wretched little fox has stolen from me for the last time! I’ll have its paws chopped off, see if it can steal from me then!” The obviously upset merchant swung his axe in her direction but she quickly rolled out of the way, and the crates became his poor victims instead. Yanking at the thing, he attempted to pull it out of the thick wood and swing again with better accuracy, but it had become lodged deep inside the box. Enraged, he started shouting obscenities, making promises and threats of having the “thieving beast chopped up into stew.” Taking this opportune moment, Tap cautiously approached the burly-looking man from the side to make things right.

“Look, I really am sorry about the sausages.” This only infuriated him further and he started punching at the box in an attempt to break the axe free. Tap winced and took a tiny step back. “And your stall. And your other ruined food. And the damaged crates.” She paused thoughtfully. “Though really, the crates were your fault.” With a loud roar and a final jerk, the sharp-edged weapon broke free, making some of the boxes tumble forward in response. Doom seemed imminent right about now.

“Oh, you’ll be sorry,” he snarled, stepping closer towards her. “You’re going to pay for all the damage done to my shop! Every single rupee!” Tap took a quick squeeze of the small piece of wrapped cloth in her back pocket that held all her money.

“How’s thirty rupees sound?” Shouting another string of profanities, he came charging towards her again and took a swing at the fox trembling behind Tap’s arm, but she’d already moved out of his way and was facing his backside. Then she gave him a swift kick to the back of his knee with her black boot clad foot, causing the lumbering man to fall to the cobblestoned ground with a thud. His axe went sprawling a few feet away from him. Before he could even pick himself up to reach it, Tap snatched the weapon from the ground.

“Now look here,” she said crossly, bending down to speak to him face to face, “I’m trying to be nice. I apologized about a million times. I offered to help you fix up your shop. I even offered to pay you a whopping thirty rupees. So I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill this sorry little guy.” She held out her hands to show him the dirty, scruffy kitsune that was trying to nip at his nose. He pushed it out of the way and stood up, his face flushed red with anger. The straggling bystanders were now watching intently in hushed silence.

“Just…just get out of here! Take your damn fox and get out of here, before I get the guards! You’ve caused enough trouble already!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Get out! If I catch you, or,” he pointed to the creature in her arms, “that little punk anywhere near here, I’ll have the guards after you!” Disheartened, Tap held the wriggling kit tighter and stood up. She glanced at the market-goers staring at her and decided it was time to leave the town for an indefinite period of time. Sighing, she walked quietly through the borders of the village and left. That was the third rural community she’d had to leave behind in a week.

~

Tap sat slouching under a tall tree next to a slow crawling creek, her head resting on her hands. She was trying to figure out what she should do next. It was much too late to travel to the next nearest district now – the sky was turning into that pinkish orange color it always turned into when it was dusk, and soon it would turn pitch-black, with only the moon and what you could see of the stars as a bedside candle light.

“Guess we’ll have to sleep out here for the night,” Tap muttered. She looked up to see the young fox happily splashing around in the water, its fur becoming a dripping wet mess. “Did you hear me, Kip? If we get eaten by monsters during the night, it’ll be all your fault. You had to go and steal sausages from that nice man when I was already trying to buy us some food. Shame on you.” The kitsune ignored her remarks and happily continued to destroy the river bed. “Kip,” she said sternly. She had the pup’s full attention now. It stood with its head pointed directly at her, its ears perked up at full attention. With a single “come here” motion of her hand, the fox obediently trotted over to her side, oblivious of her glare. She scooped up the still soaking wet creature, shaking her head at it in wonder. “I can’t believe a little cub like you could cause so much trouble. What do you have to say for yourself, eh?” It licked her on the cheek and let out a happy bark, its wagging stubby tail sending droplets of water everywhere. “Alright, alright,” Tap laughed, putting Kip back down on the ground. “I forgive you, you little runt.” She placed him back down on the ground and he proceeded to chew on her boot with his tiny teeth.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you tag along and share my food,” she said, nudging him aside to save her worn boots. “If fact, you’re lucky I found you at all, half-starving with no parents to take care of you. Poor guy.” Kip ceased his attack on the boots and rested his head on her lap. His eyes looked up at her imploringly. Tap sighed and reached for her mahogany colored pack. “Well, you wouldn’t be hungry if you would have just let me buy food without causing any mischief. But here, I think I might have a little something in my bag.” She rummaged through the mess of garbage and came out with a single biscuit hastily wrapped in a torn piece of napkin and partially mashed from being banged repeatedly against Tap’s back during travels. She tossed the whole thing to the eager fox that gobbled it up in seconds, and laid on the soft grass. Perhaps sleeping outside for the night wouldn’t be too bad. At least it didn’t look like it was going to rain anytime soon. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Five hundread’n somethin’ years,” she whispered softly to herself. “You’d think that by now…” Her reflective musings were interrupted by something pawing at her stomach and licking her face. Tap gave a small smile and started to scratch behind Kip’s ears, an act that he could always agree with as evident by his soft crooning, but the scratching quickly stopped when Tap suddenly realized that something was horribly, horribly wrong. A quick 360° scan of her environment confirmed this reality.

“Oh my goddesses!” she shouted, bolting up on her feet and knocking over a startled Kip in the process. She snatched up her pack and started running straight towards the village they’d previously retreated from. Kip followed by her side, letting out a small whine in confusion. It barked up at Tap, its flat pink tongue dangling from the side of its mouth.

“Yes, I do in fact realize that we could very much die on account of returning there, thank you, but we have to go back!” Tap expertly sprinted through the dense forest, dodging bushes and trees. If the gates to the village were already closed, there would be problems. Kip whimpered and seemed to shake his head. His quick paws moved in a blur, same as Tap.

“My stuff, Kip! I forgot my bow and arrows at the market place!”

~

Thankfully, the gates were still open when they got there. Unfortunately, a bunch of guards now patrolled the area after hearing that a fight had broken out between one of the merchants, a certain customer, and some sort of rabid animal. It was not going to be fun trying to slip in unnoticed, grab the things, and run like hell out of there.

If she remembered correctly, she’d put down her bow and pack of arrows next to that merchant’s stall when she’d asked him about the price for a loaf of bread. That must’ve also been when Kip had snuck around the counter and helped himself to a nice line of sausages, the fiend. She looked down at Kip and, mustering up the firmest voice she could, commanded, “Stay. Here.” The fox got down on his belly and rested his head on his front paws, making pitiful whimpering sounds while looking up longingly at Tap. “I’m serious, Kip. If we get caught, it’s the dungeons for us, and you’re not gonna like it. Now stay.” It didn’t make another sound. “Good boy. I’ll be back in just a sec.”

She took a deep breath, pulled the red hood of her cloak securely over her head, and attempted to remain inconspicuous, choosing to walk through the deserted alleyways when she could and trying to act nonchalantly when she had to weave through crowds.

When she approached the area of disaster, she skimmed passed the crowds and guards, trying to locate the missing object. She pressed her lips tightly together in a frown and looked again from side to side, silently praying in hopes that someone hadn’t decided to keep her belongings as a present. Relief washed through her when she spotted the bow and sack of arrows leaning against the walls a little outside of a narrow passage. She made a quick dash for the items and was about to swipe them up mid-run and get out when something small and black struck her hand.  
Startled, she recoiled back and looked in front of her to see a large raven staring with dark beady eyes intently at her, its charcoal dusted feathers smooth and unruffled in the breeze. Something about it made Tap feel uneasy. Keeping an eye on the raven, she slowly reached behind it for her stuff. She placed the strap of the bag of arrows around her shoulder and waist and stood up to leave, but found herself glued to the presence of the raven.

After much hesitation, she bent down again and started to ask if the bird was lost, as it was not very common to see those types of birds in these areas. But before she could even open her mouth, it quickly fluttered back a few steps into the tight pathway, its fast-paced wings sending a few feathers flying loose.

“Hey! Wait!” It continued on like that for a while, with Tap taking two steps closer to the bird and the bird taking two flights back. Soon she reached the dead end of the path. “Ha!” proclaimed Tap triumphantly. “Gotcha now, bird brain. “ She crouched down and pounced on the evasive animal, but ended up landing splat on the ground and watching the raven above her fly away.

“Hm. Fine.” Tap looked away and rubbed her scuffed elbows. “Didn’t want to talk to you either, anyway.” She stood up and brushed herself off. Time to sneak back out. She took a step forward but paused when she noticed that a piece of paper had stuck to her boot. Curious, she picked it up and examined it. Interesting enough, it had the seal of the king imprinted on it. Some of the writing was smudged and hard to make out, as it’d been messied up a bit from being on the ground and stepped on, but its overall message was not missed.

It was a parchment with details about a ball in Hyrule Castle for the night of the Autumn Festival, just a few nights away from now.

The sound of shouting snapped Tap’s attention to the one-way alley’s exit. And it looked like she’d been spotted by that same lovable merchant. Now it was really time to go. She crumpled up the piece of paper and shoved it inside her cloak pocket.

“You again!” shouted the shopkeeper. “I warned you about coming back here! Guards!” Two fairly young guards came trooping up to Tap with threatening looking spears nearly twice their size, blocking the only way out.  
“Stop right there,” said both the guards in eerie perfect unison. “You’re going to have to come with us, Miss. A refusal to do so can and will cause problems.”

Tap glanced behind her. Going back would only take her to the dead end. She sighed yet again and placed a hand on the hilt of a familiar rusted dagger from her side.

“’scuse me, please,” Tap said politely. “I was just about to leave.” The guards advanced forward.

“Negative. You’re going to have to come with us. A refusal to do so can and will cause problems.” Well, I tried, Tap thought. Without warning, she unsheathed the dagger from its scabbard and slammed the hilt to the first guard’s stomach. While he was doubled over, groaning, she reflected a blow from the other guards lance and parried to his backside. She slammed the handle of the knife down on his head as hard as she could, making him slump forward in a stunned daze. Then she stepped over him and continued out of the alley’s entrance, only to meet up with more than a few more angry looking guards.

It was really time to go.

Tap took a deep breath-and charged straight for the forest. Near the entrance she spotted Kip faithfully waiting for her return. She hastily scooped him up and in an instant, they were gone from vision. The guards walked around in baffled circles before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort and heading back inside the village outpost.

A few soundless minutes passed through the crowded forest before a faint rustling noise could be heard from the branches of a tree. Then a red-cloaked figure and her yellow furball leapt down from a thick leaf covered branch and breathed a sigh of relief.

It looked like they were in the clear, but Tap decided it was probably safer and smarter to get as far away from this place as they could before it got really dark. Kip, sensing another long period of traveling awaiting him, looked up inquiringly at his friend. Tap patted her little companion and started walking north.

“To Hyrule Castle, Kip. Where else?”


	11. Chapter Ten: Meeting of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Femm

The wind was blowing gently, so peacefully. Kakariko village had changed much over the many years she had been gone, although she could only watch the changes that came from afar. It had been years since she had the chance to actually go back to the land in which she’d been born, but why wish to return to a place that no longer had a hold of her? It had lost its original people and was nearly destroyed during the time of Arivis.  
  
She had contemplated whether or not to save her old village during that time, but with Arivis being a demon, and she being a half-breed herself, it would have just made things much worse had she tried to help out. Sighing, the ‘seventeen’ year old stared back at her old village, now a city, it really had been a long time… The village where her Sheikah half of the family had lived in for years, it was barely recognizable now. It was strange, after all the years she’d tried to get away from this place, tried to find her parents and those in which had been taken long ago, this once, it felt as though something _wanted_ her to return.  
  
Such a stupid thought, what lied within those gates was nothing but hatred toward her kind, not that she’d blame them after everything their ancestors had gone through with Arivis hundreds of years before. No one would want her back; none of them would even know what to call her. A half-demon half-Sheikah ‘teenager’, that’s certainly not something you’d see everyday. Finally she managed to turn her gaze away from the city, beginning to walk toward the nearest forest, the strange feeling tearing away at her with every step.  
  
The afternoon light had soon turned way to night, the velvet sky stretching on forever above her, bright stars twinkling peacefully overhead. Everything had seemed so calm lately; it was strange yet good at the same time. Hyrule had always seemed to be attacked by one thing or another throughout the many years she remembered roaming the world. It was silent, not something that would normally surprise her, however, light clinking of armour could be heard in the distance.  
  
Jumping into the nearest tree, she waited, breathing calm and silent, for whatever it was to come past. Dark, heavy armour, a large blade, glowing eyes… What came down the path seemed to her was to be a Darknut, something she hadn’t seen for many years, but easily remembered the damage they had caused during their time.  
  
“Well now, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Her voice held slight amusement as she peered down at the possible enemy. “Are you trying to atone for your sins, Darknut, or are you looking for some more victims? It’s hard to tell friend from foe now a days, with the new ‘peace’ in this strange and growing land.”  
  
“At least the peace has lasted this long,” his voice sounded tired yet at ease. “The growing land shows how well the people are getting along now after the years of pain Arivis had caused them.”  
  
“I think they were better off the way they were before, this growing power is just causing more thieves to attack,” sighing, she jumped down, giving the Darknut a curious look over. “Again I’ll ask, are you friend or foe? I don’t have all night; I need to get out of here.”  
  
“Are you a thief?” Fulkrome inquired, taking in the dark clothing of his opposition.  
  
“You think I’m pathetic enough to be a petty thief?” She shot him a cold glare, her silver-violet eyes adding to the cool gaze. “If you must know, I’m half-Sheikah…half-demon, not that a creature such as yourself could tell.” Turning her head away from him, her long black hair swayed gently, “I have no time for you. Luckily for yourself I don’t find you threatening to the innocent, so you had better be on your way.”  
  
“Arivis was a demon,” Fulkrome’s voice became harsh as she turned away from him, “you must have heard of him, the one that tried to destroy the world. You’re a half demon, why should I trust that _you_ won’t harm the innocent?”  
  
“My walking away from you should be proof enough, Darknut; do you not consider yourself ‘innocent’? I’m sure you’ve had innocent blood on your hands before, so I guess that could be a reason you’re not thinking things through my way,” looking over her shoulder she gave him an uncaring glance. “People trust you now, don’t they? You don’t look to have been in a fight with any Hylians. If they can trust you again after what your own kind have done, don’t you think I have the right to be looked upon like that as well?”  
  
“Arivis was more powerful than any Darknut, his power seemed to be limitless, you know that and you still think you should be looked upon as an innocent creature. There’s no way that anyone that knows your race would allow you to live freely.”  
  
“Yes, but I’m also half-Sheikah, you know of them, don’t you? They were close to the Royal Family of Hyrule; don’t you think that means anything? They’re an honourable, trustworthy race, although I’m part demon I also have their blood and their teachings as well.” Her expression changed to one of amusement as she turned around fully, “besides, if you really know about Arivis’ power, the strength of a demon, you should just walk away now before I decide to change my mind and kill you.”  
  
“You’re a threat,” Fulkrome unsheathed his large, heavy blade, preparing himself for the fight. “I plan on atoning for the sins I caused before by killing anyone born of evil.”  
  
“Now you assume I’m born of evil? You’re rather quick to judge,” she sighed, “fine, I’ll deal with you so I can get as far away from that damned city as I possibly can. You had better prepare yourself Fulkrome,” she smirked as he gasped faintly; surprised that she knew his name. Moving her black cloak, she took the hilt of her broad sword with a fingerless-gloved hand, unsheathing the pitch black blade.  
  
In a mere second her blade was upon his, sparks flying from the contact. Fulkrome forced her back, slashing quickly, his blade moving through nothing but air. His gaze hardened; the enemy no where in sight. Looking around quickly, he listened to the silence of the night, there seemed to be no track of his opponent, but then he felt it. The earth beneath his feet began to churn, causing him to lose balance, beginning to sink into the ground.  
  
As he struggled, the calming sound of a flute drifted through the air from the tree closest to him. “Are you toying with me?” his voice was irritated as he continued trying to free himself from possible doom. Was this girl really going to kill him? Her power couldn’t possibly be close to that of Arivis’, she wasn’t even a full demon, although her capabilities began to interest him.  
  
“Not exactly toying,” the sound of the flute stopped briefly. “Do you give up yet? That’s such a simple trap; your ability is sort of pathetic.”  
  
“Stop playing around, fight me for real, not using these little tricks, you’re as bad as Arivis,” he growled, knowing this should at least catch her attention if not get him free of this annoying trap.  
  
“Such a cocky fool,” she was suddenly standing in front of him, blade in one hand the flute in her other. “If you really want to fight me, then fine, but I won’t be responsible for what may happen to you.”  
  
“If that’s the way it has to be,” he sighed, being allowed back on even ground. “Let’s see what your true power is like.”  
  
“You better hope I won’t have to resort to that,” her voice was surprisingly harsh. “Well, let’s get to it, I’m interested in seeing how well you can do against me.”  
  
Fulkrome ran forward, slashing at her quickly, glaring as she jumped out of the way, landing easily on the flat of his blade. Swinging upwards he forced her off, just missing her arm as she did an elegant summersault through the air, landing gently on her feet. Charging again he attempted to slash her in half, becoming annoyed as she merely jumped out of the way.  
  
“Come now, is that all you can do?” She tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk lining her lips. “Well, let’s just call this little fight a draw, I’m not in the mood to hurt you, so don’t tempt me anymore. Good luck with whatever you’re planning to do,” she sheathed her sword, putting her flute in her cloak.  
  
A crescent moon on the chest of her moonlight shirt caught Fulkrome’s eye, “what’s that, some type of crest?”  
  
“Yes, the crest of my demon blood,” she nodded, “I have the symbol of the Sheikah on the back of my cloak, you’re not very observant if you just noticed it.” Sighing, she turned away from him, “anyway, I’m heading out as far away as possible from Kakariko, I doubt we’ll cross paths again, count yourself as lucky our fight didn’t continue.”  
  
“Wait,” he started as she prepared to continue her journey through the forest.  
  
She turned an annoyed expression to him, “what is it? You want to know why I want to get away from the city? I’m not a thief, as I told you before, I never even set foot in that city, I haven’t been there since it was a village so you don’t have to worry about letting someone dangerous pass by you. I’ve not hurt anyone with innocent blood, not yet anyway, I am a demon after all, there’s no reason for you to ever think I could be any different. I’m through with you, so stop wasting my time.”  
  
“I’m going with you,” his voice was determined and final, causing his opposition to sigh. “I have no specific place to go, I’m just traveling to get rid of any creature still killing under Ganondorf’s order, I’m sure following you may help me out some.”  
  
“Suit yourself, I’m not going to be watching over you so if you fall behind, you’ll be on your own again. Just remember your place and we’ll get along fine,” she turned away again, continuing through the forest, Fulkrome following close behind. She kept near to his speed rather than her normal one, knowing he could never keep up with her then.  
  
They had barely been traveling an hour when they suddenly broke free of the forest, Hyrule standing not far from them. Fulkrome glanced at their lead; she had stopped for a moment, a hand resting on her hip.  
  
“Well, I haven’t been to the Old Capital for a while,” she glanced back at him, noticing the uneasy glance. “Come on, I’ve been slow for you, you might as well come with me the rest of the way now.” Continuing forward she looked back at him, surprised that he was still following, though his steps had become slightly heavier. “They won’t judge you, most of them are pretty bad themselves, I go there once and a while when I need to rest, it’s not all that bad.”  
  
“You say they’re bad and then you say they’re not, make up your mind,” he sighed, quickening the pace.  
  
“Some of them are nice, just like anywhere else, you’ll find the good and bad,” she replied, leading him toward the entrance to the Old Capital of Hyrule.  
  
Green vines clung to the wall, showing how little they cared for their gates. Many houses had collapsed over the years, plants beginning to grow over the debris. They had tried to rebuild their once beautiful village; however they only managed to rebuild some of the buildings. In the east high walls surrounded the Temple of Time, only the top of it being visible. Thick iron gates closed out the old path to the Temple in hopes that it would keep out vandals.  
  
Several children ran past them, laughing as they played. Their parents watched the two visitors carefully, suspicious of their sudden appearance. One of the children, a young girl, suddenly stopped, a large grin spreading across her face as she recognized the female of the group.  
  
“Femm!” she yelled happily, running over, jumping into the ‘seventeen’ year old’s arms. “It’s been months since you came here last, it’s about time you visited us again!”  
  
“Femm, that’s your name?” Fulkrome questioned, turning his attention from the young girl to the mysterious one he’d been traveling with.  
  
“That’s correct, my name is Femm Bloodseal,” her voice was gentle, a light smile on her usual cold face as she gave the child a hug. “Misa, this is Fulkrome, he’s traveling with me now,” she nodded toward him. “I hope your parents don’t mind if they have an extra visitor.”  
  
Misa, looking to be around five, gave Fulkrome a bright smile, “I’m sure they won’t mind, he looks really strong, no one will bug us tonight,” she stated cheerfully.  
  
“This is where the poorer people of Hyrule live,” Femm stated as Fulkrome began to question her. “Thieves tend to live here along with those who haven’t had any luck in finding a job. A lot of fights break out around here, it’s another reason I come around as much as possible.”  
  
“I see…so peace has yet to come around here…” his voice seemed slightly sad as he spoke, “although I knew full peace could never occur, not with the way our land has been.”  
  
“Never kid yourself, this is the closest any land would ever be able to get when it comes to peace,” Femm assured him, leading him toward one of the older looking houses in the Old Capital where two parents stood with kind, sincere expressions. “I hope you don’t mind staying in a rather small place.”  
  
“Don’t worry about that,” Fulkrome sighed, “I’ve stayed in more dangerous places then this.”  
  
“That wasn’t what I was worried about,” she smirked over her shoulder at him, “we’re going to have a long night my friend, just look at those happy faces.”  
  
Glancing around the area, he noticed the immense amount of people who had stopped what they were doing and were now surrounding the streets around them. Many of them held curious expressions as they assessed the Darknut while many had dark smirks, wondering what they could get from such a well armoured opponent. He knew Femm was right, they wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, and more than likely no one else in this village would either.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Treaded Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo

_Fire...red skies, filled with smoke...  
  
Muffled screams, harsh barks...  
  
The sounds of steel clashing on steel...sparks flying...  
  
A monolith, shrouded in a smoky haze...shining with a pale lustre...  
  
Screams again...there but not there...a flash of light...  
  
Then...darkness._  
  
  
Yazstromo shot up from his fitful sleep. “Oh, I hate it when I have vague, meaningful dreams that will only become clearer as the plot progresses, culminating in some fabulous realisation at a crucial moment.” He sighed. “I really must stop adding those mushrooms to my soup for dinner.”  
  
*****  
  
“Come one, come all! Do you need soup spoons that’ll make eating your chowder a sight to behold? How about the knives used by an ancient king to cut his sausages? Perhaps you too would like to be force-fed your vegetables by the same fork used to feed the baby that would grow up to be the greatest juggler in history? It’s Yazstromo’s Antique Silverware Clearance Sale! Everything must go!”  
  
While people were forking out rupees for the high-quality merchandise at the roadside stall just outside of town, a somewhat ratty looking man sidled up beside Yazstromo. “Say, aren’t you that crazy old man who tried to hold seminars down in the town hall on...what did you call it?”  
“Cutlerology, my dear boy. A detailed study on the many facets that make up the wonder that is dinnerware.”  
“Yeah, that’s the one. Well, the reason I ask is...if you like spoons so much...why are you selling them all? You’d have to have been collecting these things for years.” Yazstromo thanked his latest customer, then turned his full attention on the man next to him. “Well, as you know, those seminars weren’t a huge success. Not many people share my fascination...or obsession, if you want to be honest. But then I realised people are not interested in the subtle curves of the tines, or the history behind the exact depth of the concave in a ladle. Then I realised all people are interested in is how they can show off to their friends, and how many roast potatoes they can fit in their mouth while doing it. So I think of this as my way of spreading fine collections of cutlery among the populace.” A scowl broke across his face, and he pointed at a box of various spoons. “Plus those bastards over there have been spreading rumours about me behind my back, so I’m not on speaking terms with them anymore.” He brooded for a moment longer, before looking cheerily back at the man. “So, how would you like to buy a set? They’ll look great in any home.”  
  
“Well, sir, I would buy some off you...if I had any money. ‘Course, then I’d need a home to put them in...”  
At once, the man’s dishevelled appearance made sense. The cogs started whirring in Yazstromo’s mind. “Well, you’re a nice enough chap, so how about you come over to my place for dinner? Get a hot meal into you. I make a mean mushroom sou—that is, I make a mean...uh, what do I have in the cupboard...” Yazstromo became lost in thought for a few seconds. “Let’s call it Soup Surprise.”  
“Well, that’s real hospitable of you, sir. Where do you live?”  
“Oh, just a little place on the edge of Darkwood Forest.” He chuckled when he saw the look of disgust pass over the man’s face. “Oh, it’s not that bad. Just so long as you never look at it and pretend it doesn’t exist. Plus, maggot season isn’t for another few months.” As he turned to help another customer, Yazstromo asked, “By the way, I never caught your name.”  
“Umm, I’m Benji, sir.”  
“Pleasure to meet you, Benji, and please, call me Yazstromo.”  
“Okey-dokey, Mr. Stromo.”  
  
*****  
  
The pauper walked towards the southern edge of the dreaded forest, and as he got closer, he spotted a small tower, a large pillar of smoke emanating from a chimney on the side. “Come in, make yourself at home!”, yelled a voice from within. “I’m just dealing with some...issues I’m having. I’ve got the soup down, it’s just the surprise is proving to be a bother.” Benji walked into Yazstromo’s home, stumbling through the detritus from a lifetime of hoarding. “Soup’s up!” Yazstromo strode out from the kitchen, effortlessly weaving his way to the table. “Take a seat. I hope you enjoy the taste of surprise.”  
  
As they ate their meal, Benji looked around, taking note of a variety of random objects; an old spear, a rolled-up tapestry, a sealed wooden box with a note stuck on it. He finally stopped at a painting on the wall. “Who are they, if you don’t mind me asking?” Yazstromo followed his gaze to the painting, and his eyes grew misty. “Those are some...old friends of mine. I painted it myself, as a sort of dedication to them. I haven’t seen them for years, but I like to remember them when I can.” Benji nodded, and then turned his attention to a large travelling bag resting beneath the painting. A few objects were poking out of the top of it. “If I didn’t know any better, Mr. Stromo, I’d say you’re getting ready to go somewhere.” At this, Yazstromo laughed, a sheepish look on his face. “Okay, you’ve caught me. I’m actually planning on going away for a while, first thing tomorrow. That’s the main reason I was selling my collection: to have some funds for the journey.”  
“I see. Well, thank you for the meal, Mr. Stromo. I should be heading off now. I don’t want to keep you from your packing.”  
“My word, Benji, what sort of host would I be if I let you walk all the way back to town in this light? I insist that you stay for the night. You can even help me pack. Oh, the stories I can tell about some of this stuff. Like this knife.” At that, Yazstromo picked up a knife with a sapphire blade off of a nearby shelf, regaling the pauper with stories for the rest of the night, until they were too exhausted to keep their eyes open.  
  
*****  
  
“Thank you again for your food and a place to sleep, Mr. Stromo, but I had best not intrude any longer. It’s about time I head back to town.” Yazstromo finished stuffing his spear into the seemingly-bottomless pack. “About that...you see, I had an ulterior motive into inviting you for dinner. The last time I went on a journey like this, a number of creatures from the forest had started...nesting in here. I swear, it was weeks before I got the smell out. Anyway, this time, I figured I need a sort of caretaker, to watch over the place while I’m gone, and I was kind of hoping...you’d take on the job.” The old man looked up expectantly. “You’ll have free access to all the facilities of my home. There’s fresh clothes in the closet over there, the pantry is stocked for months, and I’ve put aside some of the money I made yesterday in a box over there, should you need it. So...what do you say?” Benji looked down at the man, mouth agape. “I...I don’t know what to...I would love to take care of this place for you, Mr. Stromo.” A cheery grin broke across Yazstromo’s face. “Excellent! Well, then I guess that’s everything sorted. You take good care of this place for me.” He turned back to close up his pack. “Do you know when you’ll be back?” Yazstromo buttoned it up. “No, I can’t say I do.”  
“And where are you going?” The old man hoisted it onto his back. “Not sure of that either.” He strode to the door, and flung it open. “Well...why are you doing this? What are you planning to do?” Yazstromo looked back at Benji, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’m going on an adventure, Benji!”


	13. Chapter Twelve: Fragments of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein

The pen tore through the paper and snapped against the hard wood of his desk, gouging out yet another sliver, filling the gash with ink. Its metal tip clattered across his other work until finally being silenced by the carpets below. Setting down the maimed quill, he proceeded to fold his hands across one another and smirk quietly.

Klaus had received word earlier that morning that a man sporting illegal arms massacred six others in a pub off the edge of the Lost Woods. All one had to mention were this murderer’s weapons and it was a given as to who the belonged to. William Desesperacion’s name was surrounded by several circles, some faint and others new; Klaus had been trying to add these six new felonies but the paper rejected the last one. Perhaps the page felt the same sorrow the Advisor held for the fallen Knight, or maybe his crimes had finally broken through into unforgiveable.

Replacing his quill, Klaus continued his paperwork, crossing out half a dozen names from another list of convicted criminals. The world wouldn’t miss the men ‘Wild-Eyed Will’ had killed, a realization both morbid and calming. Picking up a third piece of parchment, the cleric continued to search through his logs, grabbing another ink jar while he was ahead of himself. His clock struck the nearest hour.

And after mindlessly working through other stacks of papers it struck another.

Losing himself in his work was a quality he loathed, yet only when the Sun shone brightly and the winds grazed lazily outside his office. Today was to his distaste. Rain coated the stained glass windows to his left, leaving long streaks and beads that disfigured their images into grotesque ones. The vaulted ceilings echoed with the sound of sombreness, the weather and his scribbling, his breathing and the ache in his back. He remembered the days of his work in the Sanctuary at Darik Village, helping a contractor with the new addition to the building’s devir. At night he would be the last to leave, sitting in the pews to hear the emptiness, the quiet, and his own memories.

A knock at the door signalled that it was getting close to supper; surely his ‘mandatory’ escort would be waiting out in the hall. Klaus arranged the last of his paperwork and placed it neatly in the bottom drawer, locking it. He hated having to be surrounded by a committee if he so much as had to sneeze or saunter off to the lavatory, but King Basyle demanded it of all his vassals. The Advisor rose and pushed his seat ahead, taking his time to walk past the images of long forgotten times staring back at him with rain brushed crying eyes.

He unlocked the door and opened it, expecting one of the nurses to have been sent to fetch him. But a tall man dressed in robes that were much the same as his met the Advisor’s vision. It was one of his serving noblemen whose name escaped him again and again, but it was not to be expected that Klaus remember all the names of his clerics as they were cycled regularly and arbitrarily by Basyle and his council.

“Good evening, Sir Klaus.” The man made motions to enter his keep, Klaus hesitatingly gave him permission. Stepping over the threshold, the door was closed again and locked. “My name is Jonathan, I am a member of King Basyle’s council, I do not believe we’ve met.”

“No, I can’t say that we’ve been acquainted,” Klaus pulled his guest out a seat and nonchalantly sat on the corner of his expensive bureau. “But usually I haven’t the time for social outings or for the affairs of many of his Majesty’s assembly.”

There was a silence before Jonathan wiped his forehead, sweltering under his heavy coats. “To pull matters ahead since it is nearing meal hours, I am here to check if you have time this evening to sit with myself and a few others from the assembly. King Basyle’s schedule has been booked so we cannot speak with him along these matters.”

“I am free for the evening after my hour with the Head Nurse at sunset. But I am unknown to what you wish to speak with me about.”  
Jonathan seemed to avoid eye contact signalling bad news. Any unfavourable news at this time of year was unwelcome, the planning for the Festival was in its final stages, and the escorts for several Ambassadors had already left to collect their parties from the lands afar. The intruder in Klaus’s chamber spoke solemnly, trying to hide a slight distress in his tone.

“The Convoy we sent to meet Ambassador Ashtar was met with an,” his voice stuck in his throat for a moment before he continued, “untimely and disturbing fate. We just received word through a stringent messenger line that a Labrynna survey Contingent discovered the remains of the carriage, horses, and escorts strewn across the rocks of the Nuun Highlands.”

The mood sunk even further as faint thunder came rolling from the north, the room’s light slowly fading with the Sun’s time in the sky. “That is only a fair bit troubling.” Klaus flipped his pendants in his finger routinely, listening to the metals clack together in rhythm with the winds flowing across the roof. “And the suspects?”

“Lately the animals of the area have been rather vacant, run out fairly quickly by stronger packs of wolves.” Jonathan stood, as if trying to end the discussion already before there was no longer a need for Klaus’s attendance. It was the point of his question after all, not everything could pass the men of the Council in this day and age. Intelligence was finally a virtue worth upholding in the Royal Chambers. “The reports support the idea of an animal attack as the results were rather gruesome. But at the same time much of the armour was taken, so bandits weren’t entirely ruled out.”

With a pass of his hand he continued, changing the subject abruptly. “But I must cut this short, it nears the evening and we must not be unprepared for meals with the King.”

“There is no rush.” Klaus stood, feeling slightly uncoordinated as he took steps forward to stop his company’s leave. “If no one is meeting Ashtar under the Hyrulean banner, then he should otherwise return, declining his seat at the Festival. King Basyle will not enjoy that. We know they have been travelling for quite some time.”

“Yes, yes, we have considered this and will make a decision with your insight later this evening, Sir Klaus, it is vital that you come meet with us to hear other suggestions.”

“It seems to be of utmost importance that we send more knights, despite what dangers there are along the way. Wolves or bandits or whatever else attacked our last team can’t stand in the way of Ashtar’s arrival. You know how important this is to us, the trade routes and integration of both our Kingdoms’ resources; King Basyle would demand it be done.” The High Cleric winced at the next crash of thunder.

Jonathan seemed more strained than ever, wishing for some sort of democratic way of working through this decision. “I believe this is more of a matter to vote upon, I mean no disrespect to you or your decision. But if you command we send another Convoy we will comply immediately, I just ask that you reconsider demands until tonight. You have had a hard day, Sir Klaus, we all have. I must pardon myself to prepare for further events this evening, as I know you already have things scheduled.”

The council member reached for the door lock until Klaus again spoke in a bridled tone.

“Enjoy yourself, Jonathan, but for now, another set of escorts is what I demand. I cannot make it tonight to speak with you and the others.” Klaus’s face was sullen and faced the floor, pale and unchanging. “I believe I must go to the Head Nurse a bit early tonight.” He stepped forward to shake his company’s hand, only to lose his footing and fall to the floor. Jonathan reached down to help him, only to observe in panic the wretched blood stain that had seeped through the Advisor’s robes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: [Sorry for the wait, life and school over the last while have been shafting me like no tomorrow. I may continue with this more, but only with Klaus, so parts can go as planned while I edit in new bits.]


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Twili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Darth Citrus

_Rivulets of rain running cold in the streets. Men and women with looks of fatigue, looks of dismay. A child runs ahead happily and is checked by his slower companions. A post of guards. A castle in the distance. Is this what the creatures call king? A wretched excuse of nobility. Weakness. Pain etches his face. A banner waves behind him. A standard of three triangles. The symbol. The blessing of the goddesses. Their most terrible curse. Too many thoughts are pushing its way in. This is not working. It is not working._  
  
Again.  
  
Tiviri snapped out of his trance, nearly falling out of his chair. The twili sighed heavily in frustration, taking a moment to steady himself. The evening light, wasted. Outside as twilight ebbed to nightfall; he could feel his strength leaving him. He looked up where a silver stone hovered listlessly, bathing the small cramped room in a dim blue light. It was a marvel of jeweller workmanship, ornamented by the finest of Sheikah artificers. Encircled with thin lines of silver and gold, the Twili guessed it was once meant to be worn; a symbol of pride for those who could manipulate its power. It was an enchanting object to some, but the intricate beauty of the seeking stone only further irritated Tiviri. He allowed it to settle back on the table without remark.  
  
The Twili sighed once more; an all too common occurrence the longer he remained in this forsaken land. The years were beginning to take its toll, wearing him down as a river to a rock. No matter the length of stay, this land would forever remain foreign to him. Hyrule offered no temptation warranting a second thought, a glance back. No wistful emotion would strike him when he once again stood in the Twilight Realm. Assuming he would ever step foot in it again.  
  
_Thoughts like that will get you nowhere-_  
  
A timid knock came from the outside. A child’s voice, unsure and quiet drifted through the door. “Sir?”  
  
“What is it boy?” Tiviri mumbled, warily standing up.  
  
“Sir. What you sent me. I mean to get. I…I have it here.” The voice was shaky. Hylian young were so easily intimidated.  
  
“Leave it by the door. Your payment is in the usual place, an extra yellow for your trouble.”  
  
“Yes…yes sir. Thank you sir.”  
  
Tiviri heard random scrapings amongst the scattered boxes and crates by the cellar entrance. He pressed his ear against the door, listening for the subsiding sound of footsteps. Only when he was sure the boy had left did he make his way outside.  
  
The cellar opened into a large yard used for storage by the local innkeeper. The yard and the inn were nestled at the far end of the city, square against the high cliffs that surrounded Kakariko. While the rest of the city was suffocated by houses and stores, Tiviri’s hiding spot rested on the top of a high embankment. From here he had a commanding view of everything, from the Great Hall with its distinct and looming presence, to the city gates, now fortified and kept under strict watch. Then there were the riots. Shouts and clamouring had given to violence and fighting in the streets. In the span of a day, Kakariko had turned from an ideal sequestering spot to a precarious crucible of danger. He supposed he was partially to blame for that.  
  
The Twili turned his gaze to the east, where fires had damaged most of the merchant district. The charred remains were still smoking, hours after being extinguished. An acrid haze still lingered in the air, reminding people of the trouble when eyes and ears failed to do so. The city nobility and shadow impostors were tearing this city apart. Tiviri expected some sort of reaction from the Great Hall, possibly even from the Shiekah. He certainly didn’t expect any reaction from the nobility, especially not the extent he had seen in the streets. For whatever reason, Hylians jostled constantly for political positioning. During the time he had actually cared about his mission, Tiviri noted the subtle nuances of advisors and councilmen, each trying to manipulate things in their favour. He supposed it provided a sense of power for those who had none, but it was still a concept completely foreign to him. Nevertheless, the Twili was certain political machinations were the cause of the Kakariko’s state of anarchy. There were those who were using his theft to gain an upper hand on the Sheikah. Tiviri was grateful for that, if only slightly.  
  
He turned to a marked barrel on the right and pried open the lid. At the bottom lay a small package in rough brown paper. He picked it up and sniffed cautiously at its contents. The smell was pleasing, but most importantly it was correct. The boy was worth his money after all. Tiviri nodded to himself and tossed a few more rupees in the barrel before replacing the lid. Glancing to make sure no one was watching, he made his way back to his room.  
  
The cellar greeted him with its usual suffocating atmosphere. Between the cot and side table there was little room to move around. The Twili grimaced, returning to his hard wooden chair. He missed the Twilight Realm, the floating palace grounds where he grew up. Twili buildings were always massive, with high ceilings and large ceremonial halls. Impractical perhaps, but well suited for a species that lived without want of land or resources. It was always windy in the Twilight Realm as well, something he dearly missed. Tiviri nearly had a shock the first time he stepped in Hyrule on a windless day. For a moment he thought there was no air, before his lungs forcefully reminded him. Most of all he missed his people, his culture. Knowing where his place was, what was expected of him, what was expected of others. It was familiar. Home.  
  
Just thinking about the Twilight Realm brought back frustration. Tiviri calmly brought his emotions under control. It wouldn’t be prudent to be distracted right now, he needed a way out of this city and he needed a way home. Breathing deeply, he unwrapped the parcel and threw the paper on the bed. In his hands he held a large tin with a wax seal along the top. Even through the container, the familiar scent of pipeleaf filled the room. Tiviri didn’t have many vices, but he allowed himself this one. Twili were blessed, or cursed depending on the viewpoint, not to require sustenance in the form of food or drink. His ancestors’ mastery of shadow magic freed their entire race from material necessities. Magic was the lifeblood of the Twili; food had been pushed to the role of revelry. Tiviri felt no need to sample Hylian cuisine, but he found their practice of pipe smoking to be relaxing. An unusual habit for a Twili perhaps, but it helped him organize his thoughts and that’s what he needed. He thumbed a potion of leaf into the bowl and sat back on his chair.  
  
“Think Tiviri. Think.” He muttered to himself, “It’s the stone of legend, no doubt about that. Same markings, stolen before our exile. You’re a child of the twilight so why can’t you control it?”  
  
_Control will come in time. Perhaps we are not looking in the right places._  
  
“Perhaps.” Tiviri spoke to the empty room. “These people have surprised us with their traditions before; it would not be a shock to discover their most powerful treasures aren’t kept with their king.”  
  
_Or we should not be looking for a treasure._  
  
Tiviri paused at that thought, taking a draught from his long-stemmed pipe. “Why not?” He uttered, expelling the smoke in rings.  
  
_The mirror was once a portal used to enter our world, but it was nothing without the skill of the ones who used it. The stone was just a stone until you accidentally woke it. We may have more luck if we focus on finding a person._  
  
“A person. We’ve discussed this before. Every single Hylian in this whole wretched country has more magic in their blood than the best of the Twili Noveri. All of them, Hylians with the power they possess and to be completely oblivious!”  
  
_Power is nothing without the ability to use it. Potential is nothing, search for those with skill._  
  
“What?” Tiviri took the pipe out of his mouth. “Can the stone do that? I thought it could only find sources of magical power?”  
  
_No harm in trying. The seeking stone can search out any source of significant magical power. Why can’t we look for people with the skill we need to reopen the portal?_  
  
“That requires working with people.” Tiviri growled, tapping out the contents of his pipe and setting it on the table. “I hate these people.”  
  
_Would you prefer to hate them in the Twilight Realm or in a Hylian dungeon when they find us?_  
  
The twili cursed and sat up. Clarity of thought was beneficial, but he often disliked where his mind took him. Nightfall would limit his powers, but he would have to make do given the circumstances. He stretched out his hand, palm facing the seeking stone. Gently he raised it so the stone hovered above the table. The stone flickered and Tiviri focused, tuning it to his thoughts. The seeking stone shone a brilliant blue and Tiviri sank into a trance.  
  
_The light of a full moon is dim through the smoke above a restless city. Sheikah patrols are still going door to door. Contempt in the eyes of the guards as they pass by. Focus. The head of the patrol, a female shadow impostor. Bold, fearless, zealous. Wants my head. Won’t work-  
  
A woman is baking something in a house. Children play quietly by the fireplace. She keeps looking at the door, a sense of dread on her face. Fear of the riots? Maybe? Does she have skill? Yes. Does she know it? Not likely. Someone else-  
  
A man in an office overlooks the city. Confused? No, contemplating. Maintains authority, some skill, not significant. A better leader than a solider. He’s looks past the gate. Is he waiting for something? Someone. A message lays open at his table. Perhaps looking for someone coming to the city-  
  
A group of travellers walk silently along the road a distance from the city. Four of them. The hazel eyed one with the red cloak carries strange weapons, has potential. The other also has hazel eyes and a sword. No magical skill but he’s…dangerous. Something is off with his look, he’s seen more than his appearance betrays. I cannot see the other two. Must be a race I have not met. But the power. The skill. These two have more power than the entire Noveri. This could be my way home. Will they enter the city? Cannot tell. They aren’t like the rest. Must find a way to encounter. To manipulate. Perhaps can use them to get out of the city. That would be helpful. “Chance encounter” Will avoid those damned guards. No. Don’t get distracted. Concentrate on the travelers. Concentrate on them. Curse your lack of focus. You shouldn’t need pipeleaf all the time to think-  
  
A boy runs through the streets, happily counting his money. The parcel boy. A man approaches him in a friendly manner. He asks a question and points to a money satchel. The boy considers his offer. He’s hesitant. The man shakes the rupee purse. The boy accepts, he’s points the man down a road. The man is satisfied. He pays the boy. Why am I looking at this? See? Focus. A single stray thought and we’ve lost them. We must find the travelers not wasting our time with the parcel boy. No. Not looking at the boy. We’re focused on the man. Why are we looking at the man? Some potential? Yes. Skill? Yes. Could we use him? Perhaps. He is determined, looking at houses. Looking for something? He’s walking down a street. His cloak, it is familiar. It has a seal, an eye. The eye from that hall. He’s walking towards an inn. My inn. _  
  
Tiviri snapped out of the trance. “He’s coming here. For me.”  
  
Tiviri jolted out of his seat, knocking the table over in the process. He stowed the seeking stone away with his pipe and bolted out the door. With luck, the urchin did not specify the cellar only the inn. He navigated through the storage maze as quietly as he could. Tiviri hoped he was just jumping to erroneous conclusions. Perhaps the man was just looking for place to stay. Coincidence.  
  
_A Kakariko scribe looking for lodging in his own town. Better safe than sorry._  
  
Tiviri stopped behind a pile of empty fruit crates and peered around the corner. The man had quickened his step, passing the inn entirely. He stopped at the entrance to the storage yard, surveying the scene. The storage yard was barred by a wrought iron gate, restricting all except the most determined street urchins and well paying Twili. The fence, metal bars with pointed tops, was over ten feet high, flush with the second story of the inn. Without hesitation, the man placed each hand on the fence bars and hoisted himself upward. Propelling himself forward, he pushed off the bars, backflipping over the barricade. He landed square on his feet, sword flashing out of its sheath. The acrobatics caught Tiviri by surprise. Before he could do anything, the man began to speak.  
  
“You’re either a very clever thief or a very lucky one.” The man approached the maze of boxes. “To break into the archives, that takes skill.” He looked around a pyramid of wine barrels. “On the other hand, your exit left a lot to be desired. It was clumsy. Improvised.”  
  
Tiviri began to sneak away from the fruit crates. It wasn’t possible the man was talking to him. How could he possibly know he was outside the cellar?  
  
“Therefore you had to have found the stone by accident. Why set off a beacon like that on purpose? Especially at night, makes no sense.”  
  
Babbling, definitely babbling. Tiviri crept by stacks of raw lumber used for inn repairs. The man is just guessing; I need to get out. Where is that key the innkeeper gave me?  
  
“Regardless, it gave me two advantages. The first is the turmoil started by Lord Illian and Master Lira. Riots are messy, but they will smoke a rat out of its hole.” Tiviri’s held his breath as the man looked in his direction, before turning away. The Twili inched his way to the gate. He could almost see the street. Curse these boxes.  
  
“The second is if a rat doesn’t come out of its hole, it thinks it’s safe. They get careless. You don’t live in Kakariko without someone seeing you, especially children.” Tiviri slid around, back to the crates. The gate! The street! The key, where was his key?  
  
“In the end, I am disappointed. Some hunts last me weeks, others months. They make for interesting chases, but the result is always the same. These criminals are always-”  
  
“Found.”  
  
The man rounded the corner facing him, sword glinting in the moonlight. Tiviri stopped dead in his tracks uttering a barrage of curses. The man from his vision. The symbol on his chest. It was a scribe. He should have known.  
  
The scribe pushed aside his cloak and pointed the sword at the Twili. “Now give me the seeking stone. You're coming with me to the Great Hall.”  
  
“No,” hissed Tiviri, backing away from the sword tip. “The shadow impostors lay claim to what is not their own. I have need of it and my freedom, so be on your way Hylian.”  
  
The man’s eyes narrowed. He moved forward, sword unwavering in his hand. “Hylian? You speak it with an unfamiliar tongue. What are you? Too tall to be a Zora. Too thin to be a Goron. Never seen a Sheikah steal from his people. Must be a first time for everything.”  
  
Tiviri backed into a wall. He glanced around quickly, looking for any sign of additional guards. ”I am a true shadowfolk. Unlike these impostors who masquerade under false pretences. My people understand what it means to walk in shadow. We understand the sacrifices that are made and the life that we must live. We do not live bound by a dead land and a weak king. We do not take to the shadows hiding, but embrace it in full. We do not dilute our knowledge by consorting with those who are blinded by light. This stone is a means unto my end and I will not return it!”  
  
A bolt of light erupted from the twili’s hand, catching the man square in the chest. The scribe flew backwards, leaving a trail of broken crates and smashed barrels in his wake. He landed forcefully by the cellar entrance, splintering box of expensive oranges. Tiviri craned his neck past the mess to see if the scribe was still moving. Satisfied by the lack of activity, he quickly unlocked the gate and made his way into the streets. He was fortunate, catching the scribe off guard like that. Still, he couldn’t afford to be caught like that again. Worse, he still couldn’t figure out how the scribe had known he was there, talking to him. He was overstaying his welcome in Kakariko. The city couldn’t hide him forever; he needed to find a way out. He needed to find those people.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Never a Free Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: leftironboot

A weak flame kindled only by spirits is sure to burn out quickly, and so too did Daedus’ steely resolve. It had been an age since he had felt such powerful emotions, and all of the sweet new sensations had eventually taken their toll on his timeworn mind and his poor mortal body. Immediately after his stalwart speech he found himself in shock and had to sit back down. Through the afternoon and into the evening he lay silently against the side of the house, holding Lewis tight to his chest. He kept his eyes shut, assuring himself that he would get up soon, just a little bit longer. Night passed to morning and Daedus awoke from his half sleep with his gut wrenching about inside him. With a passing thought to the meals he had skipped yesterday, Daedus pulled himself to his weary feet. He glanced into the building at the still set table and the already prepared meal, but couldn’t bring himself to go back inside. Instead he turned to the etchings on the ground and took notice of an arrow pointing away from the shack and. Glancing at his frozen companion he began trekking off in search of more than just a meal. His mind, however, quickly asserted that the meal would come first or not at all.

Daedus was a rare specimen in these times. His body was pale and relatively fragile compared to other 50 year olds. Unlike these burly specimens, Daedus had been living a reclusive life with little manner of physical activity to keep his body strong. His sword technique had stayed constant over the years, due to perpetual training, but his physical prowess was beginning to wane. Given this, his hour long trek on what he hoped was the shortest route to the seaside felt like much, much longer. The message left to him by his minute companion had mentioned that the last place he had shared with the travellers was on the other side of a great forest. He wandered on, unaware that he was walking the same old path he followed to reach the old home of his parents. Daedus’ body was not used to going for long periods of time without food, and so, dizzy from hunger, he barely noticed that he had stumbled into a small settlement. He made his way through the oddly empty town, banging on the few doors he could find, but to no avail. The people behind those doors had no idea what would happen if they opened their doors to strangers the morning after such a violent scuffle at the tavern, so thought it wise to keep them bolted for now. Luckily, the town was small and Daedus quickly reached a most fortunate door to rap on.

“Now you see, I knew you’d be coming back, young sir. That young scamp made it sound like you’d never be returning, but you did as always master Ka-” The portly man stopped abruptly when he noticed his audience. “I see, well, forgive me sir, but the tavern is closed today... we have some, uh... repairs to make.”

Feeling his stomach wrench again, audibly this time, Daedus lurched forward, forcing the barkeeper to catch him.

“Please... just a meal... I only ask of you a meal...”

A stretch of pity grew on his recently bruised face and he sighed.

“Fine... come in. Just don’t touch anything and wait at the bar. I’ll fix ya’ something up.” The barkeep helped him inside and let him collapse onto a stool. Mumbling about the sorry state of affairs these days, he marched off into the kitchen.

“So you’re looking for a castle... and it isn’t Hyrule castle?” Cyro had tried to take as little interest in this stranger as possible, but he found himself making conversation anyway; the curse of a good barkeeper.

“Uhm uffraimb bah hahb bmoh mibeah. Mouh schee,” Daedus managed to garble, spraying food out onto the bench, making Cyro’s eyes flare up.

“For the love of... Sir! Please, I assumed you would finish chewing before you started speaking... why do I even bother...” He shook his head and went about cleaning up his now vandalized bar.

He chewed furiously and swallowed his great mouthful with a pained expression on his face. “I apologize,” he spoke bluntly, “but I could not help myself. This food is absolutely delicious! I did not want to stop eating! However, yes, as I was saying, I would have no idea.”

“No idea...?”

“If it is Hyrule castle or not. You see, it has been a very long time since my last visit here and I failed to map the entire region the last time. All that I know is that the castle is on the other side of an expansive forest.” Feeling he had answered sufficiently, Daedus went back to stuffing his face.

“Well, I reckon if you’re looking to get to Hyrule Castle you’re going the wrong way friend. And I reckon if you’re looking for a different castle then I haven’t heard of it...” Cyro leant in closer to Daedus, lowering his voice. “But Damien...”

“Dmaaedss...”

“Sir, please, your food...”

*GULP* “Daedus is my name, not Damien.”

The barkeep stared, regained his composure and continued. “Daedus, then... if you are looking to get right through to the other side of these woods, you’ll need more than that there rusty rapier. You seem not to have much of a clue, if I may say sir, so let me give you a little advice: there is safety in numbers.”

“Oh, I see...” Daedus remarked, slightly downhearted. “You wouldn’t be able to accompany me?”

Taken aback, Cyro laughed a little awkwardly. “Uhh, no sir, I shouldn’t think so, no. You see, I have a family to tend to on top of this bar. Besides, I’m not good for much more than a good strong cider and a friendly ear. I wouldn’t be much of a body guard I’m afraid. Look, what I will suggest though is that you maybe check around town, not this little town mind, and see if there are any folks dim enough to try an expedition. I don’t know too much about the woods, but I reckon the more people you got with you, the better your chances are of making it through alive.”

Now with a full stomach and fresh resolve, Daedus left the Prophet’s Corner, rusted Lewis in hand, determined to reach Kakariko Village and find some guides through the forest, leaving the poor barkeep to tend to his physical and financial wounds.

“And he couldn’t even pay... honestly, what has gotten into people these days? Gah... I hope the sorry bugger keeps out of trouble... he’s got a tab now.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zetsuyout
> 
> Original notes: 7,271 words enjoy.

It was not yet dawn when the four-man company arrived at the gates of Kakariko.  
Though not surprising that the Gates were shut, the half a dozen soldiers standing across the path inside showed something to be afoot. Two large fires burned either side of the gate so that it was impossible to get anywhere near it from either side without being seen.

Noticing this oddity, the group stopped outside of the fires range to try to figure out what was happening.

“It doesn’t look like anything has changed in the town,” Naomi mentioned, “maybe they’re waiting for something specific.”

“There won’t be any harm in asking at least, surely.” Kaz added while starting forward.

Will grabbed his shoulder, “If someone recognises me there will be.”

Walking over and throwing a grey cloak and hood over Will, Jaros stated, “I’ve kept this spare, keep the hood up and no one should be able to tell who you are.”

“Do you feel guilty helping me? I’m a murderer after all,” Will asked turning his head to Jaros, somewhat grateful.

“You don’t seem to think so,” Jaros answered shrugging. “Anyway Kazar trusts you, that’s good enough reason for me to.”

“Make sure they don’t see those pistols of yours either.” Kaz added matter-of-factly, “they’re illegal you know.”

Will nodded and they continued.

They walked up to the gate and Kaz called out half-jovial, “Hey what’s all the fuss here?”

The Soldier obviously in charge stepped forward and explained, “An important relic was stolen from the Sheika archive a few days ago, and no one is allowed to leave till the thief is caught.”

“My, my, is that so? Well it should be fine if we’re just passing through, right?” Kaz investigated.

“I can’t promise anything but we’ve got everyone looking for him, it won’t be too long before he’s caught anyway.” The Soldier stated confidently.

“Well if that’s that case I shouldn’t worry too much. Would you open the gates for us then?”

The soldier nodded and indicated for one of the men behind him to open the gate.  
“If you’re going in I should warn you that some people aren’t too pleased with this situation and have been creating a bit of a ruckus, if you stay away from the centre of town however you should be able to avoid the er . . . Riots.”

He gave a weak smile and motioned for them to enter.

Once they were past the gate they could hear the men comment on the odd group and one of them swearing that he saw a beak on one of them, the other men laughed him down and suggested that he not drink before going on his shift. The group of travellers relaxed a bit and Will let out a sigh of relief.

“See no problem; I told you, you should be fine.” Jaros boasted nervously.

“I’ll be holding onto this cloak while we’re here nevertheless.” Will replied.

“Let’s find an inn, we need to get some sleep and we’ll probably be stuck here for at least a little while.” interjected Naomi.

“Maybe we could help them catch him, that would let us clear out a bit earlier,” Kaz added joking.

“I doubt that he would be that easy to corner if they’re still looking for him after so long,” Naomi commented.

“Hey I’m sure they’ll get him soon. That Soldier was pretty confident anyway.” Kaz said defensively.

Ignoring him Will finalised, “Let’s get moving.”

*****

By the time they had reached a place to stay, the sun had risen and a few early risers were going about their business. The group knocked on the door of the inn that they had chosen and it opened rather quickly.

Even though it was clear that the inn’s owner had been up for a while already, he saw fit to complain, “You know what time it is? It’s not proper to be running around bangin’ down peoples’ doors at this hour! What do you lot want?”

“Well it does say above your door that this is an inn, does it not?” Kaz mentioned, “One would imagine that you’d have a place for someone to stay.

“Oh, with all this business of thievery and locking down the town I wasn’t expecting anyone to be coming in. Well business is business, come in; you lot want a room together or separate?”

*****

Hiding in a backstreet, focussing as hard as he could Tiveri followed the group though the town using the stone and saw them enter a small building.  
The early morning twilight gave him just enough strength to use the stone again, but that was all he could manage. He quickly noted the general area where they were before he collapsed and let the stone drop.  
He would wait until that night before giving them a visit, now he needed to find somewhere better to hide from that damn scribe.

*****

Will sat awake at a small table in the corner of the room he was sharing with Kaz. While he was tired, he really wanted to avoid that nightmare as long as he could. In an attempt to stay awake he took his Magic Shots out and started cleaning them, though without any moving parts in them there wasn’t much of a point. Eventually sleep overtook him, his head landing softly on the tabletop but what he had expected after that was not the case this time.

*****

Will dreamed again, but this time it was different. He stood in what appeared to be a passage in a wealthy person’s house or a government building. That was all he could tell through the flames that covered almost everything in sight.  
Will looked around him not looking to escape but searching for something, someone. His eyes fell on a man standing across the room from him. The man wore official looking robes but a wall of fire in front of him obscured his identity.  
Will raised his sword that he hadn’t realized he was holding and pointed it at the man. Through the haze Will saw the man draw his own sword and return the gesture.  
They waited like that for a moment them suddenly will leapt forward through the fire at the man aiming to kill, the man moved to block the charge and . . .

*****

“Hey Wake up William.” Kaz called shaking Wills shoulder roughly, “you’ve slept through most of the day already.”

Will stood up groggily - the last remnants of the dream fading - and shook his head to wake up. He walked over to the window and looked outside, it was late afternoon now, he had indeed slept longer than he had intended, which was not at all if he could have helped it.

He tuned to Kaz and said, “Alright, what are we gonna do now? We’re stuck here after all?”

“Well I’d like to see what all the row with this thief is about, so I was thinking I’d go ask some of the locals.” Kaz replied. “Naomi and Jaros are already out somewhere so it’s just you and me.”

“Fine, you can buy me a new belt while we’re at it.” Will added grabbing his cloak and leading the way out the door.

“I guess that’s the least I could do.” Kaz stated following.

The two pistols sat forgotten on the table.

*****

Darius walked through the archive inspecting the crime scene once more; now that the thief had escaped again, he was back to square one.  
He knew that there wouldn’t be any more evidence he had already scoured the area. Indeed the only clue he found in the first place was a bit of pipeleaf that ironically was enough to find him in the first place.  
Darius sighed. It was obvious that he was wasting his time here; his only options were to wait until someone else happened upon him and get to him before some angry Sheika killed him or wait until he tried to escape. Neither option seemed likely to happen fast, not at least before the people’s pressure forced Master Orilieus to let people leave again. That would probably irritate the Sheika as much as everyone else is now.  
Darius walked towards the entrance but before he could leave, he remembered something; the thief remarked that the stone did not belong to the Sheika originally; he called them impostors too, how odd.

He walked back to where the stone was kept along with all the other Sheika relics and picked up a large leather bound book. The book was a detailed record of every item in the room; he quickly flicked through until he found the information on the seeking stone.  
Darius glanced briefly at a sketch of the stone. It did look rather . . . otherworldly. He turned to the written information. The article contained all the stuff about how the stone worked and its incredible importance, as well as a note at the end written at a different time to the rest stating that the stone had mysteriously lost its power. However, there was no mention about how the Sheika acquired it; while not all of the items had that information about how they were gained; – no one knew anyway – the stone was relatively new compared to those ancient relics.  
Maybe there was some credibility to the thief’s claim but it wasn’t Darius’s job to decide on that, He replaced the book and turned to leave; the thief could plead his case once he had been caught, no doubt that he wouldn’t escape him forever.

*****

“It looks like most people don’t care about what was stolen - an old Sheika heirloom that doesn’t even work,” Kaz said, exiting a bazaar and tossing Will a new black belt. “In fact the only ones demanding the thief be caught are the Sheika.”

“If that’s the case the people in charge here are probably going to give in to public demand sooner rather than later and let people leave the city again,” Will remarked latching his sword onto the new belt. “You can’t lock down a city and especially not one like Kakariko without there being some discontent.”

Kaz continued, “Mm, I’d like to visit the Great Hall and see when that’s likely to happen anyway, what’re your plans?”

“The sooner we leave here the better and . . . hey what’s this.” Will patted himself down. “Crap! I left the Magic Shots in the hotel room! You go to the Great Hall, I need to go back and get them.”

Will turned and ran back towards the inn and Kaz waled to the center of the city where the Great Hall stood

*****

“Sorry t’ intrude on yer but I hadn’t bothered to clean this place out before you got ere. Oh it’s you’ve gone out ehh.” The innkeeper said aloud, entering Will and Kaz’s room. “Well I guess I’ll just tidy up quickly before you get back.”

The innkeeper moved through the room sweeping as he went, He walked to the small table and pulled a rag out of his pocket. He saw Will’s pistols and picked one up not sure what it was, and then it dawned on him. The innkeeper dropped the weapon and ran out of the room. This was bad; he needed to find a soldier, quick!

*****  
When Will got back to the inn he was greeted by the sight of three infantrymen talking to the innkeeper and the innkeeper noticing him and call out, “that’s one of them there!”

Will didn’t know how, maybe the innkeeper recognised him or found the Magic Shots but he knew he was up. He quickly turned on his heels and ran dropping the cloak as he did so. Will darted through streets with the infantrymen in hot pursuit; He knew he couldn’t just outrun them indefinitely.  
He turned a corner and saw an alley with some orange crates stacked in it, perfect. Will deftly leapt up the boxes and onto the roof of the adjacent building.  
He heard the mens stop and look around but they couldn’t find him. He heard one of them say that he was sure that it was ‘Wild Eyed Will’ – a nickname that Will didn’t particularly like – that they had been chasing and the others agreed.  
Will waited for them to leave before moving off again. He needed a place to hide; the city would be full of wanted poster of him before nightfall.

*****

Kaz walked out of the Great Hall feeling frustrated, he wasn’t able to talk to anyone important and all the military personnel he questioned knew nothing. He ignored the crowds around the building and slipped through.  
He thought about going back to the hotel or browsing through the shops again or maybe looking for the other two members of their party.  
All of a sudden, three infantrymen ran past Kaz almost bowling him over.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s the rush,” Kaz called grabbing one of the men by the arm.  
“oh, ‘Wild Eyed Will’! he’s in Kakariko!” the infantryman, who was obviously a junior, reported enthusiastically. “We need to let the higher ups know as soon as possible!”

Kaz paused for a moment taken aback then said, “well I suggest you get to it, you might get rewarded for your diligence.”

The man saluted clumsily then turned and seeing that the other two hadn’t waited for him he dashed towards the Great Hall determined to be there when they told their superiors the big news. Kaz guessed that they would be more frustrated than pleased when there was another issue going on that was causing them enough of a problem as it was.  
Kaz quickly turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction; he needed to find Naomi and Jaros.

*****

Will was still on the run when twilight descended on Kakariko, he thought there were some old storehouses in the direction he was going but he had been looking all day and was beginning to feel a bit unsure of his bearings.  
Suddenly a tall hooded figure appeared in front of him. Instinctively Will reached for his guns; missing them, he grabbed his rapier instead and held it out, ready for a fight.

“Sorry to alarm you,” the tall figure stated undeterred by Wills sword. “But I have been watching you for some time now, and I believe we may be of some assistance to each other.”

Will lowered his sword but didn’t sheath it. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Stepping forward the person loomed over Will, he could now see the strangers pale blue complexion and creepy red eyes, but he didn’t show any surprise at that.

“My name is Tiveri,” He answered Wills question calmly. “I suppose I’m responsible for the current uproar in this city.”

“You’re the thief?” Will asked.

“I wouldn’t say that myself, Those Sheika stole the seeking stone from my people first,” Tiveri replied begrudgingly.

“I think you may need to do a bit more explaining before I’m going to trust you,” Will stated unsatisfied by Tiveri’s short remarks.

“Alright, But I suggest we move somewhere less out in the open,” Tiveri said. “I’ve found a place to hide out, would you follow me there?”

He turned not waiting for Will’s reply and walked of from the direction he had appeared.

*****

  
Darius walked into the Great Hall late at night to Report everything that had occurred during the course of the investigation so far as unproductive as it was, he was feeling more than a little disappointed. As soon as he was in the room, he was immediately noticed by one of the soldiers and called out.

The soldier jogged up to him and handed him a wanted poster. “there was a sighting of William Desesperacion in the city,” he stated officially. “We’ve been asked to distribute them about town.”

Darius looked at the poster; He remembered hearing about ‘Wild eyed Will’ before, a rouge knight right from the capital, he had killed a fellow officer, was arrested but managed to escape.

The soldier reported, “They’ve raised his bounty by five thousand; I heard that he murdered six men all in one fight a few nights ago. I thought you’d like to know. He turning up while there’s all this business with that robbery in the archive seems a bit suspect.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Darius questioned.

“Three men saw him and two Magic Shots were found in an inn whare he was supposedly staying, those are his signature weapons aren’t they?” The soldier answered.

“That and a well made rapier,” Said Darius thoughtfully.

“Anyway you should look out for him regardless,” the soldier concluded.

Darius thanked the soldier and moved into Master Orilieus’s office.

*****

Will was right about there being storehouses in the direction he was going but he didn’t care right now, he was more concerned with Tiveri’s story.

“So you say you’re a Twili?” Will asked.

Tiveri nodded.

“And your people are from a different dimension?”

Another nod.

“and you were abandoned after you were sent to this dimension?”

More nodding.

“And lastly that you hadn’t stolen that stone you had retrieved it, it having originally belonged to your people?”

“yes this is all true,” Tiveri said finally.

“Really that all sounds a bit far fetched to me, but looking at you I’m willing to bet there’s some credibility in what your saying,” Will replied. “But if I’m going to help you get out of this city you’re going to have to help me with something else first.”

“What is it?” Tiveri asked willingly.

“They’ve probably got my two Magic Shots now and I’ll bet they’ll be kept at the barracks, “Will explained. “I need to get them back. If you help there I’ll see what I can do to get you out of here.”

“Deal,” Tiveri said holding out his hand, a very human gesture.

Will grabbed Tiveri’s outstretched hand. “Deal,” he repeated.

*****

Darius concluded his report for Orilieus, stating that he was out of leads for now but that one of the infantrymen had mentioned that it was suspect that William Desesperacion had arrived in town in such close proximity to the robbery taking place and that he’d see if there was any real connection to it.

Darius rose to leave and Master Orilieus said, “It’s in my understanding that some items belonging to William have been seized and are being held in the normal place, why don’t you go pick them up, see if they’ll help you out in any way. I hate to think I’m shoving two cases on you now but see what you can find.”

“That’s no issue to me, sir,” Darius stated. “I’ll go check that out now.”

He then turned and left the room.

*****

The large clock on the Great Hall struck twelve as Tiveri and Will weaved their way through the shadows, sneaking their way to the barracks where Will suspected his weapons were being kept. A few times, they stopped as a soldier or someone heading home late from the pub passed by, but apart from that the going was smooth.  
When they arrived, Will smashed in one of the windows and slipped through landing softly. Tiveri mirrored his entrance looking about they saw that they were in a dorm full of empty cots.

“Alright most of the men stationed here will still be out searching for us,” Will stated popping on his eyeglass. The Irony of that wasn’t lost on him. “But we still need to move quickly, we’ll never know when someone will decide to come back.”

They stepped out into a hallway with several similar rooms to the one they entered along the hall and exits at either end.  
Will went left, Tiveri right.  
Will’s exit led onto a crossroad he peered into the left path and saw that it was a mess hall. It only had a kitchen adjoined to it so Will took the right path, another hallway with dorms along it.  
Will continued searching.

*****

Tiveri passed through several rooms without being particularly productive, and then he happened upon a small group of infantrymen. Tiveri managed to duck out of the way before they saw him. He peered around the corner to see what the men were doing, two of them were in a store room just ahead looking for something and the third was standing just outside looking in. he was about to leave when he realised that this storeroom was what he was looking for.  
Tiveri briefly weighed his options and wether he could take the men blocking his way. No question about that.  
He pulled two stone coloured gloves out of his pocket and put them on, just three men and they had their backs to him. This would be easy.  
Tiveri stepped out of hiding and leapt at the doorway. The man standing in front of him turned just as Tiveri grabbed his face and shoved him with a little help from the magic in his gloves against the back wall knocking him unconscious. The two men inside turned to face him but Tiveri used his gloves to pull down two sets of shelves on top of them, knocking them out for a while.

Tiveri searched through the room quickly, he found some Pipeleaf confiscated from a criminal, he dounle checked it. it was his pipe leaf, that he'd left the night before, he pocketed it.  
Finally, he found what he was looking for, two odd looking red and silver items wrapped in a grey cloak with a broken belt that had a knife and small pack full of rupees and a few other items. He grabbed the weapons and pack then he stepped over the men and ran out. Now just to find Will, get out of here and then out of this city.

*****

Darius walked into the barracks empty reception, noting that the storage room was in the back of the barracks. He headed in that direction.  
He was about halfway there when he heard a crash. He started running.  
Darius Dashed through several rooms but stopped instantly when he saw someone step out in front of him. Recognising the person instantly, Darius quick pulled his sword out and held it offensively in front of him.

*****

“I’m telling you, I didn’t know that was him.” Kaz pleaded with the officer.

After returning to the inn, looking for the other two members of the group Kaz had promptly been arrested as an accomplice to the nefarious Murderer William Desesperacion. Now he was doing his best to convince his accusers otherwise.

“I’m not lying I only met him on the way here, he said he was going to Kakariko and we decided to go together. He said his name was Fitz.”

That was mostly true, he had met Will on the way there and he’d only been back in the country for a while but he’d visited some border towns frequently, like the place where he had met Will and he’d found out plenty of the goings on around here.  
Kaz didn’t know how convincing he was sounding but the officer interrogating him wasn’t buying it.

“Now, you understand why I think you’re lying?” The officer said.

Kaz shook his head slowly.

“You told me you didn’t know who he was when I showed you his picture,” The officer poked a wanted poster sitting on the desk between him and Kaz.  
“Well, uhh he did look a bit different to this, his hair was longer and this pictograph is at least 5 years old,” Kaz blundered. “I didn’t recognise him at first, and he did give me a different name.”

The officer was still unconvinced.

“Look why don’t you let me help you catch him, he’s stuck in the city right and I consider myself a reasonably skilled swordsman, if I help you get him why don’t you let me go.”

Kaz didn’t want to stop Will, in fact he thought he could help him out here but most of all he wanted his sword back. He could see some soldiers looking at it just outside the room and he wanted it back before one of them broke it.  
He liked that sword.

The officer paused looking thoughtful, then conceded, “Alright but if you mess up at all I’m dragging you back here and no more deals for you. Got that?”

Kaz nodded vigorously.  
The officer stood up and motioned for Kaz to follow as he walked out the door. Kaz followed him and grabbed his sword off the soldiers fiddling with it.

It seemed like he’d go sleepless tonight too.

*****

This was probably the worst-case scenario.

Will had burst into a room looking like it was designed for sword training and he now faced one of the worst people to run into right now, a Kakariko scribe.  
As soon as he saw Will, he’d pulled his sword out ready to fight. Will quickly drew his own in reply.

Neither of them moved for a moment then the scribe spoke, “William Desesperacion right?”

Will didn’t move.

“Well I’m Darius,” He continued to mock a greeting. “You’ve made quite a fuss around the city today and I was starting to worry that I would have to look for two criminals now. Oh, your bounty’s gone up again, 20,000 now.”

“I’m overjoyed,” Will said sarcastically.

“Hmm, too bad servants of the law can’t collect on that, seems like no one’s going to be taking it,” Darius stated.

“Whatever can you mean?” Will asked fully knowing. He started pacing around the room and Darius mimicked him.

“Oh, I thought you would understand, I can’t let you escape now that I’ve seen you,” Darius answered, now much more serious.

Then almost faster than Will could see, Darius leapt into the air and struck down at him, He brought his Rapier up in time though and managed to knock Darius’s sword to the side. Will took that moments advantage and moved his sword to stab into Darius’s exposed chest, but Darius used Will’s parry before to spin around and block him.  
Locking swords with Will, Darius Threw a punch at his monocle clad eye. Will dodged the blow and pulled out of the lock.  
Both combatants hopped back, and then Will went on the offensive angry that Darius would use a low tactic like going for his eye. He struck quick and strong at Darius but the scribe held him off perfectly.

Will considered himself a good swordsman, indeed, he wouldn’t have made it to a knight’s rank - the highest in the Hyrulian army – without being of some skill, but he knew he couldn’t beat this scribe. He needed a way out.  
Darius took a brief opportunity to strike at Wills head with the blunt of his sword and Will ducked straight down. From this position, Will tried to kick Darius’s legs out but the scribe jumped over the attack and over Will, striking down as he moved. Will stopped the attack, just, and hopped away from where Darius now stood.

“You’re a good fighter Will, but I’m afraid you can’t keep this up for good,” Darius Taunted. “Why don’t you give up now?”

Will faked an angry lunge at Darius but as he moved to stop the attack, Will spun quickly and dashed out the door behind him.  
Will ran through the building with Darius close behind, he ran fast but the scribe was faster and he caught up to Will just in the barracks entrance.  
As he got to Will Darius stabbed hard at him but he dodged to the side, rolled and came up ready to fight again.

“I said I wouldn’t let you escape, and you’re not going to,” Darius stated coldly.

“I think I am,” Will boasted, noticing something that his opponent had not.

“If you won’t surrender I’ll just have to kill you,” Darius said raising his sword.

Before he had a chance to attack and almost comically, Darius was yanked off his feet and sent sprawling backwards. Will ran up and kicked his sword away as Tiveri Walked up from behind Darius as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“You are working together, what a surprise,” Darius said trying to keep in control of the situation. “I guess this makes things easier for me.”

“Don’t try to act tough,” Will said bluntly, holding his sword to Darius’s neck. He turned to Tiveri, “did you get them?”

“Yes, and some other items I assume you dropped,” he replied tossing Will the two pistols.

While Will was distracted Darius, made his move. He jumped up out of the Way of Will’s rapier and grabbed one of the Magic Shots flying through the air; he pointed it at Will just as he caught his own and pointed it at Darius. Stalemate, but Tiveri was still free to move and he did so, dashing to grab Darius’s arm. Darius realise this and ducked to the side, out of the way and pulling the trigger on the magic shot at the same time.  
The shot went wide but Will and Tiveri still ducked to avoid it giving Darius the moment he needed.  
Darius dropped the gun and jumped to where his sword lay, quickly realising what he was doing Will fired off three short shots but Darius got to his sword and blocked all of them. He was ready to fight again.

“I didn’t get a good look at you last night,” Darius said, looking at Tiveri, “you truely do look completely alien to Hyrule.”

Tiveri just stared back at him.

Darius turned back to Will. “Now where were we?”

Realising that it would be bad to continue the fight longer, especially now that he had what he had came for, Will grabbed the second magic shot off the ground and ran out into the night, Tiveri following close behind him.

Darius started to chase the two but by the time he got outside, they had disappeared.  
Twice now he’d let his target escape, that wouldn’t happen a third time.

*****

Will and Tiveri arrived at their hideout and Tiveri handed Will the rest of his belongings.

“Alright, what’s the plan for getting out of here?” Will asked after a moment.

“Each of the gates along with several guards is protected by a magic barrier to prevent any tampering.” Tiveri Replied, straight to business. “The source of the barrier for each gate is nearby to it, I saw you enter through the East gate, the west leads to the Goron mines, the South to Old Hyrule castle town and past there, New Hyrule, castle town. That one is the most guarded and that’s the one we need to leave from.”

“Mmhmm,” Will agreed. “The last place we want to go now is straight into Goron territory and the lost woods are unwise to enter at the best of times. When do we move?”

“I’ll need to wait until Dawn to be of any serious help so we’ll need to be precise,” Tiveri explained. “We’ll take out the Barrier just before dawn, a shot from one of your weapons to the source, it’s in a tower just opposite the gate, should knock it out for about 10 minutes, we’ll use that time to bust through the guards and open the gate. From there should be easy.”

“That’s sound but rather general, though I don’t doubt we can pull it off,” Will approved.

Then there was nothing left but to wait.

*****

The officer That Kaz was stuck with obviously had run into a wall With looking for both of the criminals who were loose in the city. He had no real investigation, which was apparently being handled by a scribe and the officer had simply resorted to ordering all soldiers not on duty already, to comb the city looking for them.  
It all seemed pretty pointless to Kaz but he went along with it all the same, the more time they wasted running around, Will could be finding a way out.

“If any criminal was hiding out here they would be staying close to the outskirts,” the officer stated to Kaz and the five soldiers with him, thinking himself very smart,” We’ll take a patrol round there and see if we can find anything.”

Really something like that was obvious and Kaz had already thought of it, but it was still as unproductive as going anywhere in the city, Will would be hiding somewhere out of the way not in plain sight.  
The group marched off and Kaz followed them, it was almost dawn.

*****

About fifteen minutes before dawn just as planned Will and Tiveri approached the tower, The Gate was about a hundred meters from the tower and had twelve guards standing around it, twice as many as the one Will had entered by.  
There was only one entrance to the tower, a small door facing the gate with just one man guarding it.  
Tiveri and Will ran up to the side of the tower and crept around the side, when they reached the front Will casually stepped out and slammed the guards head against the door. He grabbed the key to the door off the guard and quickly moved inside, about ten minutes before dawn.  
Inside they saw a spiral staircase leading up, Will had counted three floors and it served to reason that the source of the Barrier was at the top. They ran up the stairs noting strangely that the middle floor that they had to run across to get to the other half of the staircase was completely bare but for 6 bizarre looking ceremonial swords.  
They reached the top floor and found the source to be a crystal of some description floating and twirling in the center of the room giving off an odd pale light, though there was no reason to be surprised at something like that it was a particularly magically based item.  
Will looked out the window and noted that the sun was starting to rise. He looked at Tiveri to acknowledge that he was about to start their timer to escape, Tiveri nodded his reply.  
Will pulled one of his Magic Shots out pointed it at the crystal, he pulled the trigger and almost immediately the Crystal stopped twirling and its light went out, ten minutes. Will turned and ran down the stairs following Tiveri who had shot down them a moment before him. He reached the second floor and found Tiveri stopped in the middle of the room, looking at the unearthly black shape that was massing itself before them. Well that’s what Will saw, Tiveri on the other hand saw with his keen sense of what lived in the shadows a grotesque creature forming itself before him.

“Will, I’ll handle this,” Tiveri said seriously. “You clear a path once I’m done.”

Will didn’t say anything; he just walked around the outside of the room knowing that Tiveri could help himself; they now had nine minutes left.

As Will left the room, Tiveri pulled on his two stone coloured gloves as the creature formed itself completely, and flew into the floor. Immediately six ugly grey arms like that belonging to a corpse, pushed themselves out of the floor standing ominously in a circle. Tiveri knew what this was, it had several names, creature from the bottom of the well, Dead Hand, or simply unnatural freak in any case this was one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Hyrule, to think there was one imprisoned here near to so many people. Then he realised that the barrier was not only protecting the gate but also keeping this monster trapped here, he needed to kill it now before it escaped.  
The arms waited a moment then turned to the walls reached up and grabbed the ceremonial swords off the wall. Realising what they were doing Tiveri used his gloves to pull the two swords nearest to him into his hands before the arms reached them, said arms immediate turned their attention to Tiveri and lurched at him trying to get their prizes.  
Tiveri ducked from the attack and leapt forward releasing the swords and using his magic to direct them to attack the arms slashing each in half. The loose end burned away instantly in purple unnatural fire and the stumps shrunk back into the ground. Tiveri knew they would grow back soon but he would be finished here before they had a chance to do so.  
He was now in the center of the other four arms, each brandishing their own sword, Tiveri went to work quickly. Throwing his swords at each arm in turn, he added each opponent’s sword to his collection.  
He finished his work and leapt back as the body of the disgusting monster materialised out of the floor, it charged at Tiveri, but it wasn’t fast enough. Tiveri dashed past it grabbing one of his swords and stabbing the freak with it leaving it there, he turned, grabbed another sword and ran the monster through again and again and again until one sword was left. Tiveri hopped back grabbed the last sword and flew at the abomination before him, he slashed straight through the creature and didn’t stop to look as it burned away letting the swords impaled in it drop to the ground as he dropped the one he was holding. Seven minutes were now left.

*****

As soon as Will was out of the tower, he sped straight down towards the gate; he pulled his sword out.  
The first three guards Will encountered didn’t see what hit them. Will leapt up as he reached the first one and slashing straight down his chest, he then ducked and kicked the man behind the one he just fell’s legs out and stabbed him into the ground backhanded. He then pulled away drew a pistol and fired it at the third hitting him square in the face.

By now the other soldiers had noticed what happened and started running at Will. He calmly stuck the Magic Shot he already had out onto the rapier and pulled the other out pointing them at the advancing soldiers. Two shots rang out and two of his opponents fell but then the rest were on him.  
As the men charged Will, each lowered a particularly dangerous looking spear at him, Will managed to slip past two of them and slash both through the side before getting past the group.  
Will hopped back from the soldiers and attached his second pistol. The remaining few – there was five now – cautiously circled Will waiting for a chance to attack. Will stood calmly in the center with his pistol sword held relaxed at his side. He still had seven minutes left to defeat them and get out easy.

*****

Just like almost everyone on that side of Kakariko, Kaz heard the shots loud and clear, there was no doubt who that would have been. Sure enough, the officer ordered the men to head in that direction, the south gate.

Kaz followed feeing nervous, now he was actually going to have to do something. He started thinking of a way to let Will escape without incriminating himself, there weren’t many options and he only had a couple of minutes before they got there.

*****

Darius also heard the shots and started running, but he was at the Great Hall and about ten minutes away from the gate.

Unbeknownst to him, there was no way he would get to the gate in time to stop Will and Tiveri escaping.

*****

Eventually one of the guards made a move and tried to stab Will in the back but he dodges the thrust and grabbed the spear out of the soldier’s hand. Will span and cracked the blunt end of the spear over the soldiers head as he stumbled past him, leaving him sprawling across the ground.  
The other four attempted to use that moment to their advantage and charged in, but Will ducked under their spears and hacked at the shins of the soldier closest to him.  
He rolled through the gap and sprang to his feet holding his sword and the spear pointing down on each side of him.

At that moment, Tiveri ran out of the tower and up to where Will was facing off against the gates guards.

“You go open the gate,” Will stated calmly not looking at Tiveri. “I’ll take care of these, and then we’re out of here.”

Tiveri ran around the last three men as Will ran at them. Will stabbed the first soldier through with the spear, cut the midsection of the second, and then almost gracefully leapt into the air and shot the third man twice in the chest.  
Will hit the ground running, a short smirk playing across his face, they were out with five minutes to spare.

*****

As Kaz and the infantrymen he was with arrived at the scene, Will was already almost at the heavy gate and another man he was with was opening it using some form of telekinetic magic.  
The officer raised his arm as if to order the men to attack.

Kaz grabbed it and said forcefully, “I’ll take care of this.”

Kaz unsheathed his sword and ran at Will leaving the officer standing awkwardly with his arm in the air.

Kaz yelled as he approached Will, alerting him to his presence and then struck at him his blow easily being blocked. He really hoped his plan would work.

*****

Taken aback by Kazar suddenly appearing and attacking him Will didn’t realise at first what Kaz was doing and seriously thought he had been betrayed.  
He fought furiously, needing to be on the other side of the gate before his time ran out.  
Then as one minute ticked by and then two Will realised that all Kazar was doing was defending. Then it dawned on him that Kaz wanted to let him escape.  
Will decided to try something that rarely worked, he locked swords with Kazar then he flicked his sword up and knocked Kazar’s right out of his hands.  
Taking the opportunity, Will spun on his heels and sprinted at the gate he had just one minute left.  
Will got through to the other side and skidded to a halt. Tiveri dropped the door once he was on the other side. And the infantry men that Will hadn’t realised were even chasing him stopped just on the other side.  
Will briefly caught Kazar’s eye and they looked at each other knowingly.

Now they had to leave before the men got the gate open again.

*****

Once Darius got to the scene, the carnage that Will and Tiveri had worked up was already being cleaned up and the casualties lay in a row covered in sheets.

He soon enough discovered that a small group of men had been sent after them but they didn’t expect to find them.  
He was feeing even more frustrated now, not just twice had he let his target escape but now they had left the City completely.  
Darius knew what he had to do now, he gazed out the now open gate, he had to find them no matter what, and he would start in the most obvious spot, Old Hyrule castle town, a den for all the criminals in Hyrule, his targets would wind up there eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I may clean up a few bits later but not anytime soon.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Anamnesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes: Tetras have this wonderful ability to make magic happen. Even if that magic is LATE. ;P Have a good one, peeps.

Kaz didn’t know how Will expected that thin, bendy blade of his to stand up against his longsword. In fact, he didn’t understand why the Hyrule Knights had begun using those things at all, but, they were made in Hyrule, so the blades must have been magically reinforced.  
  
He guarded, making sure to loosen his grip on the longsword’s hilt. Then it happened, Will’s and Kaz blades clashed, sending sparks into the air. With a flick of Will’s wrist, the kid somehow managed to hurl Kaz’s longsword out of his hands. _Damn_ , Kaz back flipped and grabbed his sword, placing it in its sheath.  
  
"It’s not as wimpy as I thought," he muttered to himself. "But," looking over his shoulder, "At least Will got away."  
  
Straightening himself, Kaz left, his gaze resting for a moment on the smoke rising from other parts of Kakariko. It seemed the fires had spread from the merchant’s quarters and lower districts to some of the houses of the lower nobility. Even from here, he could still hear the shouts of the rioting populace. Kaz frowned, where in this hell had Naomi and Jaros wondered off to? This place was in chaos: a revolt waiting to happen! He didn’t want them to get caught in the middle of it, he had to get them and find a way out of here.  
  
At times like this, Kaz wished he had studied a detailed map of Kakariko, but then again, he’d never thought he have to escape from the most “peaceful” city in Hyrule. Although, it was peaceful only in the sense that most of the nobility never saw the darker side of their little paradise.  
  
Then, Kaz spotted something strange in the small crowd that had gathered near the gate. A brown haired scribe from the Great Hall was pushing his way through the rabble, heading towards the young officer that Kaz had traveled with earlier. The scribe tapped the guard on the shoulder and the officer turned to face him.  
  
“Why did you let him get away?” The scribe asked.  
  
“I, well, it’s that man, sir,” he pointed straight at Kaz, “He ran in there! Telling us that he could handle it! And well, I mean, sir, he looked like he could. That blade of his, and, he looks like he’s fought a lot.”  
  
“Looks.” The scribe repeated drolly. “Do you know what went through those gates?”  
  
“Will—“  
  
“Desesperacion does not concern me.” The scribe said. “It’s his cohort I care about. Why did you send just one man?”  
  
“I…”  
  
“I plan to report you, sergeant. No excuse will cover you here. Go.” The young officer called his men and the crowd split, letting the officer and his men through. Kaz watched in silence, standing with his back straight and hands behind it. He did not like this scribe, he was a dangerous and powerful man. At a leisurely pace, the scribe approached him. “You.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“When you stand like that, it makes you look like you should have been in command of those men.” said the scribe. At his words, Kaz placed his hands in his pockets. “You are a strange man, Master Kazar, and why someone like you is here is…interesting.”  
  
“Hmmm,” Kaz nodded, “Then I’ll take my leave.”  
  
“No, I don’t think so.” The man said as Kaz glared at the blade that was now blocking his path. “You’re that foreign noble who often misses meetings at the Great Hall. Don’t think I didn’t recognize you. You may look like a commoner with your coat covered in dried mud and blood with a sleeve missing, but that scar at the corner of your left eyebrow is unmistakable.”  
  
Kaz frowned, that was not a massive scar, well, at least compared to others on his body. He’d gotten it in a fight with a young man who’d led a rebellion against the king of Kyzoon, but he would rather forget that it was even there. “What’s your point?”  
  
“Simple.” The scribe said. “Are you in cohorts with William Desesperacion and his partner?”  
  
“You only care for the other one.” Kaz pointed out.  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
“I’m not helping either. William took my wallet and I simply wanted to take it back.” He explained, making his voice and expression as innocent as he could. “I didn’t even know the guy was working with someone else.”  
  
“I see…” The scribe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. If Desesperacion had taken your wallet, you could’ve gotten it back from him without breaking a sweat. Your skill with the blade is well known, at least amongst the scribes. You did not see the other?”  
  
“No.”  
  
The scribe stared at Kaz. “Just as well, he is dangerous."  
  
“But he doesn’t concern me.” Kaz met the scribe’s sharpened gaze.  
  
“I know.” The scribe said, then whispered, “But, if it was revealed that you were working with a wanted criminal…”  
  
Kaz glared, his hand reaching for his blade. “What’s the damn point?”  
  
“We,” the scribe replied, his lips turning up slightly. “Will work together to hunt them.” Kaz stared bluntly as the man sheathed his sword.  
  
“I—” but, before Kaz could say anything, a tall woman in a cloak followed by a man ran through the crowd, pushing aside (and almost running over) patrons in their way. Kaz felt anger rise to the surface when he recognized Naomi and Jaros. Well, he guessed he would have to tell them eventually.  
  
“Kaz, where—”  
  
“I’ll explain later.” Kaz said, watching the scribe out of the corner of his eye. Even with the hood of her cloak over her head, he could no doubt see her beak. “We’ll meet at this gate sunup tomorrow morning," ordered the scribe as he turned to leave, and Kaz glared at his back. "Don’t keep me waiting.”  
  
***  
  
“That thief has caused more trouble in two days than many have in the last hundred years,” Orilieus sighed as he signed the document in front of him. His eyes never met those of Darius, who stood there, carefully watching the tired, old man do his work as he listened to the scribe give his report. Darius wondered if the Master of the Hall was simultaneously thinking of solutions to the newly risen revolt as well. Orilieus was a marvelously gifted in the area of multitasking, something that Darius could never quite master as well as the elder man.  
  
“Who would have guessed that he would cause a revolt all by himself? Even I could not foresee it, and yet, he finally caused that pot to boil over. Not that they needed much of an excuse. Now, the nobles are no longer content in protecting their homes and there is talk in the streets, shouts of overthrowing their Sheikah oppressors.” Orilieus sighed. “I had hoped this would not happen until the office had passed to my successor. But enough of the ramblings of a tired old man. Is that all you have to report Darius? If so, you have leave to pursue him outside of the city walls.”  
  
“Thank you, Hallmaster,” Darius said. “There was one other event of note. A man, Kazar Amintor, who was also at the gate during the escape.”  
  
“Ah, so he has returned to city?”  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
“And I suppose he will accompany you, then?”  
  
“I...indeed Master Orilieus, how did you guess?” Darius asked, momentarily surprised.  
  
Orilieus coughed. “It was only a guess. You could say I know more about him than even you have fathomed on your own.”  
  
Darius raised an eyebrow. Did Orilieus have a friendship with the strange nobleman that he had not noticed? It did not matter; he also reported on Kazar’s odd companions. He had never seen a woman like that one in all of his life, or that strange man beside her... “Before I left, a strange woman with a bird-like face and another man came. The woman called Kazar 'Kaz'.”  
  
“Ah,” Orilieus stamped the document and met Darius’ gaze. There was something in the old man’s dark eyes that told the scribe he did not find this news surprising in the slightest. Rather, he seemed amused. “So, it would seem Lord Kazar is more than he makes himself out to be. A figure straight out of legend! To think he snuck right into Hyrule without a person even suspecting it of him.”  
  
Darius frowned. “With all respect Master Orilieus, those are just legends.”  
  
“How can you say that when they walk right before your eyes?” Orilieus stood. “The evidence was before you as well. Kazar hardly changed in these seven years he lived amongst us in Kakariko, he should be in his thirties now, but yet, he looks no older than a man in his late twenties. The only reason he appears older than twenty-one are the scars and worry he received from years of war and whatever else he faced in his long life.”  
  
“Yes, but…”  
  
“And his name,” Orilieus continued, “It could almost be considered changed by time. But, I believe he chose to change it himself. Although, he was not very creative in that choice, a different name would have been less suspicious than the one he uses now. Do you not understand, Darius?”  
  
The scribe nodded and averted his eyes, disbelief washing over him. A creature of the shadows steals a long dead artifact and now the heroes of legends were walking among them! Darius wanted to attribute it to the senility of an old man, but something stopped him. If the legends were true, and they were here, well...what darkness was yet to come?  
  
“You must be open-minded in everything scribe; even the most fantastic of myths began with a seed of truth.” Orilieus sat, dipped his pin in the inkwell, and began writing on another piece of parchment paper. “You have done well, go and get some rest before your journey.”  
  
“Thank you, Hallmaster,” Darius turned and left, making sure to softly close the door behind him.  
  
***  
  
Silence. Why was it that the constant silence that came upon Hyrule Field at night still chilled her to the bone? It had been this way for years now, no wind and no animals scraping about. Nothing but the muted sound of Tap's footsteps and breathing. In the villages and cities she’d heard some call it the abyss of death or the curse of the gods, and now, those who traveled by night only did so in groups and with guards to protect them.  
  
But, their fear created a haven for those who lacked it. Bandits, murderers, and other brave souls could travel by night unharmed, for, other than the silence, there was nothing to fear. Yes, she had heard stories of someone leaving a village at night and disappearing or returning with burns on their skin or madness, but she’d never encountered anything like that. Just the silence of the fields, why would she fear that?  
  
Suddenly, she heard a man’s baritone in the silence, though she could not make out the words or see him. Tap crept forward, hiding herself in the tall grass until he emerged from the shadows of the night, sitting not even a dozen feet in front of her. Her heart began to race, but he did not notice her, no, the strange, elongated being was in a world of his own.  
  
“—but, he, he is useless!” He said in frustration. “How can he help us?”  
  
At the word, “us”, Tap frowned. Who was this “us” he was talking about? Better yet, who was this “he”? Then, she spotted one of his companions asleep, back turned to her. The other had to be nearby, but, it was too late to run. She would have to hope this idiot on watch or his friends would not notice her.  
  
“Yes, that is possible.” He sighed. “Yet not certain. We have no proof that they will return, and they might be trapped or—“  
  
Tap bit her bottom lip, was it possible that the silence had caused this? No, this strange being must have been insane already.  
  
“Hope?” He asked. “Or you mad?”  
  
No, Tap thought, but you are.  
  
“I know,” he hissed, “yet I would—what in the cursed light?”  
  
Her little fox had padded over and now sat on his lap, starring up at him with huge, round eyes; the same eyes that had won her heart. But she doubted it would work on this strange man. No, he was probably too far gone to care for such things.  
  
To her shock, he stood and loosed a bolt of lightning at the fox. The little creature bounded to the side, letting the bolt burn the patch of grass where it had stood. Before he had time to send out another one, Tap leaped to her feet, short sword in hand, and jumped at him. Her action caused him to stumble backwards, trip and fall over his own feet. The next lightning bolt went high, missing both her and the fox.  
  
“What in hell is going on?”  
  
Tap, the strange man, and the fox looked at the owner of the voice, standing with his rapier withdrawn and pointed in her general direction. He blinked before placing the weapon back in its scabbard, a frown creasing his face.  
  
“Tiveri, I trust you have a good reason for attacking her?” He asked.  
  
The strange man did not reply, but instead, curled his lips slightly in disgust. Tap guessed he had no taste for Hylian women.  
  
Then, the strange man’s companion looked at her, and she could read the questions in his eyes: why was a woman walking around Hyrule Field at night with no companions other than a fox? Was she mad? Or was she more than she appeared: a thief or some other kind of criminal? Tap realized she did not know the answer to that question herself. She couldn’t say that she was as innocent as she had been five hundred years before. Sometimes, you needed to do certain things to survive. And she had.  
  
“I’m taking my fox and going.” Tap explained, quickly turning her back on him and taking a few steps. Something caught her eye and she stopped, looking back at him. Why did he seem so familiar? Then, it hit her, those hazel eyes and that brown hair. They both—but no, his face was somehow off, was it that it was too narrow?  
  
“You...aren’t Kaz, right?” Tap choked on her words and she felt her stomach turn. A part of her wanted to shrink, run, and hide; she didn’t want Kaz to figure out what she had done. Even if he had never been the smartest person in the world, she was sure he’d figure it out, condemn and hate her.  
  
“Kaz?” He glared. “I’m not that old man, no, if you’re looking for him, he’s back in Kakariko.”  
  
"Oh, thank the gods," Tap murmured, relief flooding through her.  
  
“But, who are you?” The man asked.  
  
She smiled, gently. “I’m Tap, and well, I wouldn’t say I’m lookin’ for anyone. Nope, not at all! But where are you going?”  
  
“Huh.” He headed back towards his empty bedroll. “Honestly, it's too early for any of this. You can call me Will, and we’re heading to the slums of Castle Town. If you want, you can come along, but right now, I’m going back to sleep. Good night.”  
  
***  
  
That night, Kaz rolled over once again, he had been unable to sleep for hours. Not even in his own bed in his own house. No, too much had happened recently; too much had changed from his simple life of chasing down criminals and turning them in. Yes, he had wanted to help William, but he had not expected Naomi and Jaros to come and…mess everything up again. He would’ve rather continued sending Naomi letters by pigeon than see her in person after five hundred years.  
  
How the goddesses of Hyrule loved to play with a man’s life! Only a few days ago, life had been fine, as talking to Cyro in his inn before William had shown up and took a seat in the old place. It was so much easier to pretend that he was not Kaz the hero who had helped save the world from Arivis. Or Kaz the general who had lead the armies of Kyzoon for over four-hundred years.  
  
No, Kazar Amintor was much easier. According to that story, Kaz was the youngest of three children born to a noble couple in a distant land across the sea where “Kazar” was a popular name given to young men. “Kazar” had fought in a war as a young officer, and once the war was done, he had left the country, looking for something more and had found Hyrule, where he felt his sword could help by finding criminals and turning them in. That had been his excuse, though, not the one he gave to the nobility. No, he told them that he wanted to experience the “wonders of Hyrule” (what little was left of those). As far as he was concerned, it had been the perfect ruse.  
  
Kaz sighed, and deciding that he would get no sleep that night, he got up, walked over to the old redwood desk by the light of the moon and lit the candle that sat there with a piece of flint. He avoided looking at the old pictograph in the frame, preferring to let his eyes linger on the mirror for a moment. Boy, did he look tired, and, noting the single gray hair with his keen eyes, he shrugged. Why should he care about that? Damn, he already felt old as it was, it didn’t matter. He took a few green leaves from a bowl and put them in a satchel. He’d need some on this trip.  
  
Kaz heard a knock on the door. He told them they could come in, while stuffing the bowl of green leaves into a drawer and shutting it quickly. If it was Naomi, he couldn’t let her see these, she might know what they were and he didn’t want to explain himself, but he needed them for the headaches, especially with that kid around.  
  
“I’ve noticed you haven’t slept well.” Kaz looked up to see that it was Jaros. The man did not come in the room but kept to the doorway. “In all truth, I hadn’t noticed but Naomi had and she asked me to check on you.”  
  
“No experiment or whatever it is on your part?” Kaz asked.  
  
“I don’t see a poe here.” Jaros smiled, but it was somehow different from a normal smile. Kaz still didn't believe he had only come at his wife's request. Then again, it was Naomi.  
  
_Or maybe he isn’t lying_ , Kaz thought, but there was little point trying to understand either of them. That was still a problem he carried from the last time he was around Naomi, trying to figure out if she was up to something or not. Jaros on the other hand, well, he would have to know the man better before he could make any judgements.  
  
Jaros cleared his throat. “Yes, well, why is it?”  
  
“What?” Kaz asked, before remembering the earlier question. “Oh, I just don’t like sleeping when people like you and Will are around.”  
  
“Of course. Though I'd wager that’s not the only reason.” Jaros stated. Kaz wondered if the man could somehow read his thoughts or something. Either way, he was pretty sure he would never get the answer to that question.  
  
“It’s not.” Kaz agreed, frustrated. “But if Naomi wants to know, she should ask that question herself.”  
  
“Indeed," He sighed, "She wished to, but she hasn't gotten much rest recently..."  
  
“Sure.” Kaz nodded. Kaz didn't hate her, but she'd brought back memories he'd rather forget. All the years of trying to pretend he was someone else, the skills and titles he acquired. Naomi could see through all that to who he really was, and it was unsettling. Even after spending the whole day healing, she still wanted to see what was up with him. As for Jaros, he simply annoyed him at times. It had been a long day and Kaz certainly wasn't feeling like being questioned any longer. Insomnia or not.  
  
“Just tell her I’m damn fine.” Kaz said. “And leave, please.”  
  
He nodded, glanced at the picture, and left. Somehow, Kaz guessed, he had gotten some clue to whatever real question he had but had not dared to ask.  
  
***  
  
Jaros had not expected her to stay up for his return, despite what she had promised. Healing always took a lot out of her, but ever since…her return, it did more so. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “He says he’s fine. You mustn’t worry so much, I’m certain you realize it’s not good for you.”  
  
She opened her eyes, surprising him, if only slightly. She was not lying when she said she would stay up this time. No, that odd Hylian was truly something like a son to her, if he took her word for it. And, like always, he did.  
  
“He’s a bloody liar.” She said, closing her eyes. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll talk.”  
  
He only nodded, and blew out the last of the candle.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: A Tale of Two Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Darth Citrus

Three travelers walked silently across the landscape, their figures silhouetted against the pale colors of dawn. The landscape was hilly, interposed with clumps of trees and mangled undergrowth that had lain untouched for years. Tiviri walked at the head of the party, smoking great quantities of pipeleaf in a careless fashion. His Hylian companions fell in step behind him, fatigue still lining their faces. Will was fiddling with his rapier belt and Tap kept sneaking glances at her newfound companions, her fox trotting along side her feet.  
  
“So, why are you going to the old capital?” she asked, attempting a causal tone.  
  
Will looked at her and shrugged, pulling his cloak around him to ward off the morning chill. “We’re going to meet some…family,” he replied. “Isn’t that right Tiviri?”  
  
Tiviri expelled a smoke ring in response.  
  
“You two are related?” asked Tap incredulously. Her fox peaked up its ears and looked at her.  
  
“No… I mean yes,” stammered Will, backpedalling. “I mean, we’re not related. Like to each other. We’re just both going to visit family, who are ill at the same time. Like, we both have family that is sick and we’re visiting them in a non related way! So separate...but together, out of convenience!”  
  
“We are traveling to the former Hyrule Castle Town in an attempt to escape the grasp of a particularly determined Kakariko Scribe.” The Twili interjected, not bothering to turn his head. Tap raised her eyebrows and Will’s eyes bugged out.  
  
He began sputtering. “Tiviri! We’re trying not to draw attention here! You can’t go telling everyone we meet what we’re doing!”  
  
“So you do not trust the Hylian female then?”  
  
Will began to turn red. “Well no, I mean. That’s not what I’m saying at all,” he said, addressing Tap. “It’s just we don’t know you and you could be anyone. Not that I’m saying you are! Of course we trust you! It’s just other people. We have to be careful. And…well…yeah.” Will tried desperately to avoid eye contact and Tap hid a smirk behind her hand.  
  
“I see,” continued Tiviri. “Well if trust is not an issue, was your deceit an attempt to impress her with your perceived empathy? Hylian courting rituals are ever so strange.” Will’s mouth hung open and Tap tried everything she could not to laugh.  
  
“I…shut up!” Retorted Will, throwing his empty water canteen at the Twili’s back. “Seriously, how can you be so dull?! Didn’t you study social rules in the million years you’ve been here?!”  
  
“Not at all,” replied Tiviri as he knocked the ashes out of the bowl. “In fact watching your discomfort at my perceived naiveté is providing great amusement to both myself and the female. That would imply an excellent understanding of your social structure.”  
  
Will started to say something and trailed off, face still flushed red. Tap couldn’t contain her laughter anymore, her fox yipping in unison. The Twili continued, “In any case, your companions will meet with us soon Hyruling Desesperacion? We cannot stay in your old capital for long. Doubtless that scribe will search there first, and we cannot risk being caged again.”  
  
“Yeah, they’ll be here. Maybe that crazy bird person will fly over and spot us, or we might be on our own,” muttered Will.  
  
Tap’s ears perked up at the mention of a bird person. Cautiously she asked Will, “Bird friend? Do you know her name?”  
  
Will gave her a curious glance, “Yeah, it was Naomi Something, though I never said she was a girl.”  
  
Tap inwardly winced. Now it was her turn to backpedal. “Er, it was just a guess. You don’t see too many Rito here or nothing! Just thought it’d be interesting to meet one. Ya’know, if she’s coming and all.”  
  
“Yes…it would be interesting,” replied Will, fixing her with an inquisitive stare. Tap looked away and began to hum.  
  
************************  
  
“I said dawn Amintor, not two handbreadths above the horizon.” Darius said to a very disheveled looking Kaz.  
  
“I don’t care if you’re a scribe or not,” replied Kaz, buckling on his sword, “I am still a noble, you’ll address me as such.”  
  
“Very well _Lord_ Amintor,” said Darius, sarcasm lining his voice. Kaz thought the mock bow he added was a little much but he let it slide. Any other time he would have told the scribe to clear off; maybe challenge him to a fight for threatening to blackmail him. But, acting as an aide would provide enough opportunity to delay the scribe. Maybe even misdirect him entirely. With any luck, he might be able to give Will enough time to sneak away.  
  
Assuming of course, the kid was smart enough to not wait around for him.  
  
“Where are your companions?” the scribe asked, clearly irritated. “We’ve wasted enough of the morning sun!”  
  
“Oh them? They aren’t coming. They were just guests of mine.” Kaz made his voice sound as truthful as he could make it, “Capital nobility you see, they don’t wish to join us, though they understand my leaving.”  
  
“Yes I’m sure,” Darius said unconvinced. Kaz hoped he wouldn’t insist on returning to his house to get them. Naomi and Jaros had left the city hours ago, per their plan. Heading back would poke too many holes in his story. Besides, Kaz was so tired, he wasn’t sure if he could come up with a suitable excuse on the spot either.  
  
The scribe made a final check of his supplies and Kaz turned his gaze toward the still smoldering portions of Kakariko. Hours after the fires were extinguished; the building remains were still too hot to enter. He could still hear shouts emanating from the far end of the city. The Hallmaster needed to get this under control soon, Kaz thought to himself, otherwise the Royal guard would step in and that would mean the gallows. He gave an involuntary shutter. Kaz started when he realized Darius had been watching him, waiting, so, he slung on his pack and followed Darius to the gate.  
  
“Your travelling partner has quite a head start,” Darius said. “It will take us almost a full day to reach Hyrule Castle Town.”  
“That’s a rather bold assumption,” said Kaz, “How do you know for sure they’re headed there?”  
  
“Because I am still in possession of basic common sense,” said Darius tersely, “It’s not called a thieves refuge for no reason. No offence to your Lordship may I add.”  
  
“None taken,” Kaz replied coldly and rolled his eyes. “There’s a big world outside Kakariko walls, scribe. It’s just as probable they could be heading into the forest as the capital city. We should ask around the smaller hamlets first and-“  
  
“How much do you know about scribes, Lord Amintor?” asked Darius, cutting him off.  
  
Kaz was taken aback. “Er, not too much I suppose, though I don’t know what this has to do with anything” he shrugged. “I’m not in session very often because I travel a lot. But, from what I understand, scribes take down the proceedings and work on behalf of the Hallmaster.”  
  
“Yes. Those are tasks we do in addition to others. But any man can be trained to do these things. Take notes, run errands. A guardsman greener than a new spring leaf could do everything that you’ve said in our place. Yet, scribes chosen individually, raised from childhood to serve the hall. Do you know why?”  
  
Kaz shook his head.  
  
“Because of our ability to use magic”  
  
“Magic…”  
  
“All Hylians have it in their blood, but few can use these gifts and even fewer can hone them. Scribes are chosen by these criteria. We are selected and trained so that the Hallmaster has a menagerie of agents he can commission for tasks of…delicate nature.”  
  
Kaz nodded slowly. He didn’t like where this was going.  
  
“My ability is strange, Lord Amintor, but is very suitable for catching criminals,” Darius continued. “It’s one thing to track someone; it’s another thing altogether to track them anywhere they are, simply by knowing their face.” The scribe stopped and turned to look at a very stunned Kaz. “I have been very fortunate so far. I cornered the tall one in a dark inn yard and was incapacitated before I could glimpse at his features. Yet I encountered this same man and Desesperacion yesterday in the barracks, attempting to retrieve those pistols.”  
  
Darius paused for a moment before continuing, “It’s not a perfect ability. I only know the general direction from my current location, akin to a compass. It’s also a process that requires complete focus and a good deal of energy. Even so, I must still do the legwork, investigating and apprehension.”  
  
The scribe began walking again. “At a fast pace, we shall be there by nightfall. You are coming with me since you’ve fought the rogue before and could prove a more suitable adversary then a squad of guards. With your help, I will have my query apprehended, Desesperacion arrested or dead and you’ll return with tales that will elevate your position as a noble.” Kaz wasn’t sure how to reply. Darius didn’t notice. He followed the scribe, mind buzzing furiously. Perhaps sidetracking this man would be harder than he had thought.  
  
***************  
  
Will took in his surroundings as the trio passed the vine ridden gates of the old capital. Despite the name, the old capital, Hyrule Castle Town, was a facsimile of its former glory. The square, once witness to the parade of royalty and the coronation of kings, was now strewn with the stone ruins of arches and monuments. Many of the abandoned houses were in a severe state of disrepair after decades of disuse. Not surprisingly, the gathering of the most unfortunate of Hyrule had turned this place into a haven for bandits. It had taken on the moniker of a thieves’ fortress; its inhabitants masquerading as loyal citizens of Hyrule, while simultaneously pillaging its wealth. Surprisingly, the children played carefree and ran laughing through the streets. It was an odd sight to see bandits, who would slit a throat for a yellow rupee, patting the heads of children; talking to them in a gentle demeanor. “Even the ruthless still look out for their own,” Will surmised.  
  
Tiviri ducked into a narrow corridor which led to a hidden courtyard enclosed on all sides. Vines covered the tall encircling stone walls and were slowly engulfing the back of the house as well. Judging by the broken marble fountain in the middle, Will guessed this was once a house for nobles or a rich merchant. That must have been an eternity ago.  
  
“Here,” said Tiviri, tossing a rusted metal key at Will. “I will be resting upstairs. The both of you are free to leave your things here and do whatever you wish.” Will turned the key in his hand and Tap looked at the looming stone masonry uneasily. “Hyruling Desesperacion, it is best if you wait in a more advantageous location for your companions. If you should find a suitable supply of decent quality, buy me a reds worth of dark pipeleaf, I am almost out.”  
  
He dropped a small bag of rupees by the threshold and stepped into the house. “And by the blasted light, if you get caught do not lead them here.” The Twili shut the door.  
  
“A please would have been nice,” muttered Will snatching up the rupee purse. “C’mon Tap, let’s look around the city, unless of course you have things to do now that you’re here…”  
  
“Oh, no it’s alright,” Tap said nonchalantly, “I can wait to meet your friends. They sound interesting to meet and all.”  
  
“Right,” Will remarked.  
  
They started off in the direction of what served as the merchants’ district. Even in the afternoon sun, the ramshackle booths and carts gave them an uneasy feeling. Much of the food wasn’t in great condition, but it wasn’t spoiled. Scattered in-between the food vendors were a scattering of women and men calling out, advertising services: some offered their sword as a hired mercenary, others we’re more of a dubious sort. There was even an old woman who claimed to be the descendant of a famous fortune teller living in the city centuries ago. The duo took in the strange sights in curiosity; Tap holding her fox in her arms and Will’s hand resting on his rapier.  
  
The two were at a clothing vendor when Tap suddenly pulled Will aside and pushed a red wide brimmed hat into his face.  
  
“What are you-“  
  
“Just shut up and pretend you’re buying it.” Tap whispered.  
  
Will counted the number of stitches inside the brim as Tap glanced down the street. After a few moments, she pushed the hat on to Will’s head and jerked her head in the other direction.  
  
“Come on, we need to get out of here!”  
  
“Huh? Are you going to tell me-“  
  
“Hey!” The vendor interrupted Will, “You pay for that. No stealing here! We’re a respectable sort.”  
  
“Oh sorry.” Tap grabbed Tiviri’s bag of rupees and threw a blue in the man’s direction. The vendor bit it with his front teeth and nodded towards the girl. Will and Tap hurriedly walked away.  
  
“Now do you mind telling me what’s going on?” he asked.  
  
“That scribe,” she replied in undertones, “I think she’s here. I just saw her.”  
  
“What!” Will looked alarmed. “We need to get out of here now and….wait. She?”  
  
“Yep. I only saw her back, but she had the symbol of Kakariko on her cloak and everything. Let’s just get back to Tiviri’s hideout and look for Na- your companions later.”  
  
“No, wait.” Will grabbed Tap’s arm. Her fox growled threateningly. “The scribe that was chasing us was a guy. Why would they send another one out?”  
  
“How would I know?” asked Tap, mildly perturbed. “If they sent one, they can always send two. We should go.”  
  
“I want to see what she looks like first,” said Will. “If it turns out she is looking for me, at least I’ll be able to tell what she looks like if she changes clothing. Besides, she hasn’t seen me yet, so we have the upper hand right now. Let’s just trail her for a bit.” Will started down the street, keeping to the sides. Tap sighed heavily and followed behind.  
  
*********************  
  
“Damn this leg,” Kaz groaned, sitting on a rock. “I knew that fall back there did something.”  
  
“Yes, amazing you’ve travelled throughout Hyrule without dying from the numerous injuries you must sustain each trip.” Darius responded humorlessly.  
  
Kaz continued to clutch his leg and the scribe looked toward evening colors of the sky. “It’ll be dark soon,” The scribe said with a grimace. “I can order the gates open at night but I’d still prefer to reach there before then.” He rummaged through his pouch and dug out a small root. “Chew on this, it’ll numb pain and accelerate healing. Now move.”  
  
Kaz took the root, making a show of chewing it slowly and getting to his feet. The scribe was proving extremely difficult to delay. Pretending to injure himself by falling down an embankment was doing nothing. Even after “mistakenly” traveling down a different path, losing his walking stick, having his water canteen mysteriously break and claiming heat exhaustion, he may have only successfully slowed the scribe down an hour. In addition to making a complete fool of himself.  
  
A scream pierced through the air, turning both their heads. The scribe’s sword flew into his hand and Kaz followed suit. At the intersection ahead and through the trees, he could make out the wavering of torchlight, dancing around the dark figure of a caravan. A man was holding a blade against the driver, his two companions rummaging through the goods in back.  
  
“Please, we don’t have anything,” said the driver, trembling. “Just take the money and go.” In the back, the man’s wife and his child were huddled together, the mother trying to comfort the child while shaking herself.  
  
“Awfully strange, see’un a merchant travelling so close to night,” replied the bandit, pressing the blade closer. “One might think you’d be tryin’ to hide somethin’.”  
  
“We were waylaid by a broken axle!” the man stammered, “N—needed to make this s—shipment. Have ta make a living somehow.”  
  
“Well that’s certainly a shame then,” said the bandit, feeling the stolen rupee purse before stowing it away. “Breaks my heart to see a ‘ard workin’ family b’set by misfortune. Breaks it right in two. Maybe we need to put them out of their misery, right boys?!” The men at the back hollered in union and unsheathed their swords. The child whimpered and the man pleaded desperately. “No no! You have what you want, just go, we won’t tell anyone!”  
  
“No need to worry ‘bout that. We’ll just kill you now, take yer wife, ‘ave some fun with her. Sell the child as a slave. Makes for a tidy day’s work that!” The man laughed, his eyes drifting towards the forest. They widened in surprise. “What‘n Din’s nam-“  
  
Darius leaped out of the forest and bounded onto the caravan stand, knocking the sword away from the man’s throat. Kaz ran toward the bewildered duo on the ground. The merchant wrenched himself from the seat into the caravan back, as the bandit leader and Darius exchanged parries. Kaz blocked a flailing swing and smashed the bandit’s face with his hilt. As the man flew back, Kaz only had a second to duck while the other bandit tried to take off his head. From the strokes, Kaz could tell this one had fought for some time: very strong, but sloppy. The second bandit threw his whole weight into his blows, trying to knock Kaz off balance. Kaz simply deflected each move, keeping an eye on the unconscious one on the ground.  
  
The bandit leader was proving to be a more competent swordsman. After the initial shock, he steeled himself against the scribe. Arms moved back and forth. Lunging. Block. Thrusting. Parry. Darius remained expressionless, countering each of the strikes effortlessly. In the blink of an eye, Darius’s blade nicked the man’s shoulder before he could block in time. The bandit gritted his teeth, swinging faster, trying to catch the scribe off guard. Darius took advantage of the sloppy defense and sliced the bandit again, this time at the leg. The leader grew frantic, abandoning discipline all together. He blocked Darius’s strike and threw a wild punch at the scribe’s face. Darius caught the fist with his empty hand. Using the bandit’s momentum, he pushed himself off the platform; pulling the thief with him he twisted in the air. Using the shocked bandit as a barrier, Darius slammed the leader into the ground and back flipped off. He immediately entered another sword stance and the leader got to his feet groggily.  
  
Kaz was beginning to tire out; each block was taking more and more out of him. He had fought one on one many times before, but never an opponent who seemingly had limitless energy. Each time, the bandit smashed his sword into Kaz’s as if he was trying to break it. Attrition would not work in his favor here, and, by Din, he was so bloody tired. He searched through all the techniques and stances he had learned over the centuries: Fighting a taller enemy? No. A group of enemies? Hmm, no. Fighting a moblin? Maybe, if he pretended his quarry had a spea-OH CRAP!  
  
The bandit finally managed to knock Kaz’s blade away, delivering a kick to his chest in the process. Kaz landed awkwardly at the base of a tree, head spinning around him. The bandit raised his sword above his head, grinning, Kaz wincing and readying himself for the blow. The great Kaz of the Chosen, slain by a common bandit. In his last few seconds, he wondered if anyone would mourn for him. Naomi maybe, in her own strange way.  
  
He heard a crash and the bursting of flames. Kaz opened his eyes. The bandit was on fire, flailing wildly, a broken lantern at his feet. Kaz grabbed the bandit’s dropped sword and jumped up, flicking his wrist. The tip caught the bandit right at the neck, slicing the jugular. The thief gurgled and dropped to the ground, clothing still on fire. Kaz looked up to see the lantern’s owner, the merchant’s wife, gesturing frantically out of the caravan window towards Darius.  
  
Even with his injuries, the bandit leader was still fighting, their duel moving closer to the trees. Darius began to show annoyance, pressing a little harder, slashing a little faster. Fatigue was setting into the bandit’s before a thought entered his mind, lighting up his face. Blocking Darius’s last blow, he threw himself to the ground and ran back toward the caravan. Darius gave chase, somewhat nonplussed. The bandit scrambled past the horse and stopped, turning to face the scribe again, sword outstretched.  
  
Misunderstanding his intent, Darius also halted and walked in front of the horse, preparing to begin the fight again. With a malicious grin, the bandit swung his sword and struck the leg of the animal with the flat of his sword. Enraged, the horse lashed out, slamming its hoof against the head of the scribe before he had time to react. Darius flew back and crumpled to the ground unconscious. The bandit laughed, and pulled the horse back with the reins. He was about to finish off the scribe when he heard a voice behind him.  
  
“Ahem,” Kaz flicked the sword out of the bandits hand and pushed his sword against the man’s throat. The leader raised his hands, palms outward.  
  
“Look kid, you ah, got me alright? “ The bandit said, glancing over Kaz’s shoulder. “An’ my men. Just let me go. I won’t do this again, swear by the king’s head I won’t.”  
  
“You know, I think I would have years ago.” Kaz spoke in a distant voice, “I’ve learned since then. People like you will never change, no matter how many opportunities you get. You’ll only continue to plunder, to rape and to murder. There is no second chance today. Goodbye.” His blade flashed and the bandits head snapped back. With a sickening gurgle he fell to the ground clutching his neck. After he was satisfied the man was dead, Kaz quickly ran over to check on the first man he had fought. This one was also dead, head smashed against a rock when he fell. Just as well, he didn’t feel like slicing anyone else’s throat today. The merchant’s family had exited the caravan, showering Kaz with grateful cries.  
  
“Are you alright?” he asked, wiping his sword with his shirt.  
  
“Yes, thank the goddesses you were here,” exclaimed the merchant, holding his wife and daughter close. “If it wasn’t for you and that other man…I don’t want to think what would have happened.”  
  
“Other man...? Darius!” Kaz ran toward the unconscious scribe, merchant family in tow. Placing his right ear on the scribe’s chest he could make out faint breathing.  
  
“He’s alive, thank Nayru,” said Kaz, standing up. “But he’s in no state to travel. Not like this.”  
  
“We could take him to a town, find a doctor,” said the merchant’s wife. “It’s the least we can do.”  
  
An idea struck Kaz like a thunderbolt. He nodded to the family, “Yes, if you could do that, it would help a good deal. Where were you folks heading?”  
  
“We were delivering amber to the Goron Protectorate.”  
  
“Excellent, that’s where he was headed too,” Kaz improvised quickly. He took Darius’s satchel and rummaged through it. A curious note caught his eye and he pocketed it before handing the bag over to the wife. “Here are some medicines he was carrying. You can use these until you get him to a doctor. Now he’s a stubborn person and if he wakes up, he’ll insist on continuing his task. Make sure he stays and gets his rest. Don’t worry about telling the doctor to force him to stay, he’s a scribe; guards can restrain him without worrying about bruising. “  
  
The child’s eyes widened and the merchant responded incredulously, “A scribe? Well yes sir! We’ll make sure he gets the best care as possible sir.”  
  
Kaz nodded, “Good, here are some rupees for the trouble. I wish I could accompany you, but I..er have my own mission to complete in the old capital, which is unfortunately in the other direction. Now let’s get you back on your way.”  
  
“Yes sir, thank you lord scribe!” Kaz didn’t attempt to correct them. They lifted Darius onto the caravan and Kaz stripped the bandits of any valuables before burying them at the side of the road. Twilight had almost faded by the time he saw the family off, trundling in the direction of the Protectorate.  
  
Kaz dusted himself off. “Well when life gives you deku seeds…” he said to no one in particular. He started in the opposite direction. If he hurried he could be in the old capital in an hour.  
  
*********************  
  
“What’s a shiekah doing here?” Will asked as they walked back to Tiviri’s hideout. They had followed the mysterious cloaked figure through the evening and into the night. Will meant to return before nightfall, but they were lost for a good few hours, much to Tap’s chagrin.  
  
“Well she’s not a scribe. Just be happy with that huh?” Tap replied. Her fox was sleeping soundly on her shoulders.  
  
“Still, almost fooled me for a second with that cloak. Though I wonder what that funny symbol on her chest was?” Will pondered, nearing Tiviri’s alleyway.  
  
“I don’t know, but I can’t help but think I’ve seen it before…” Tap began in an unsure voice, “Maybe I did, a long time ag-AH!”  
  
Two hooded figures appeared into view just as they reached the alleyway. Will unsheathed his sword and Tap reached for her dagger before a familiar voice began to speak.  
  
“There ye are mate,” said the tall woman. “I didn’t think we’d find you in this maze of a city and with that hat to boot. We need to get out of here and…” She turned towards beaming girl next to him. The smaller girl rushed over, the two women embracing while Will stared dumbfounded.  
  
“Wait you know each other?” Will asked in shock. “Seriously? That’s pretty fortunate if you ask me.”  
  
“It is,” mused Naomi. “Now we run into Tap, you're like a magnet, Will.”  
  
Will threw his arms in the air, “Don't blame me, you guys are outright weird, you know that?! You must all have some sort of magical connection. Is anyone else in this crazy little group going to show up out of the blue?”  
  
“There you are!”  
  
Will had barely finished speaking when Kaz rushed into view. “You found him, excellent work Naomi! The plan worked.” he said, out of breath. “Now I managed to waylay the scribe for maybe a day or two, but we have to leave soon. Nice hat Will.”  
  
Will pulled his hat off and Naomi removed her hood, “How did you get in the city?” She asked. “The gates are barred.”  
  
Kaz held up a note and imitated Darius’s voice, “This bearer, a scribe by the name of Darius, is entitled to act in any method deemed necessary by himself, in my name. I will vouch for his actions both in spirit and in law. Signed by the Master of Kakariko City.” Laughing he lowered the note and noticed for the first time the trembling girl standing next to Will, smile fading.  
  
His voice was hoarse, “Tap?”  
  
“Kaz?” she asked weakly.  
  
“Ah, so the company has finally gathered.”  
  
Everyone turned to look at the new speaker standing at the end of the alleyway. A tall figure moved into view, his steps echoing against the looming stone walls. The Twili removed his pipe and surveyed the crowd, expelling a ring of smoke in their direction.  
  
“Excellent.”


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Old Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes: [This is an intermediate Chapter posted to keep some sort of pace going, as well as to make up for my shorter section earlier]

“It is not wise to cheat death like this.” An old voice scoffed somewhere distant. These were the first words to reach his ears when the faint flickers of firelight crept into sight. “You would think with such responsibility he would be more cautious. That he would actually-,”

Klaus was midstride when he lost his footing; the searing pain in his back took his breath away and his feet from under him. The nightstand that once held a Red Potion now lay on its side, the refreshing liquid seeping into the floorboards. Two nursemaids now stood over him, looks of worry slowly fading into smug smiles.

“I fear you’re in no health to walk, Sir Klaus.” The older of the two attendants beckoned toward her younger helper to heave the disabled Advisor back into his cot. “Spare the look of contempt; this is your fault, after all.”

He shook his head before letting it fall into his stiff pillow. Duly noted, he would have to make an order for slightly less board-like headrests with his return to the office.

“I’m well aware, Mable.” Klaus turned his head slightly to the left to address the Head Nurse. “I was even on my way to pay you an early visit. Albeit, I admit, the visit would have been conducted exactly the same way.” Brushing his hand on the floor he picked up a glass shard from the Red Potion and spun it in his fingers. His medals and soiled robes had been long removed from him.

Mable lifted one of the lit candelabras and placed it in a holding stand, filling the lower part of the room with light. “Be it early or not, your Excellency, you should not be waiting so long in between your appointments. There are reasons why you have them, you know. Now turn over so I can change your bandages for only the Gods’ know how many times I’ve done so already.”

Klaus quickly complied, sparing a wince or two from the pain. A few ‘tisks’ whistled through Mable’s teeth as she addressed the deep black stains. “You should have felt these long before five hours ago. You’re a grown man, Klaus. I shouldn’t have to hold your hand.” The Head Nurse was one of very few people who the Advisor considered a friend outside of his Royal Duties. She served under the previous King and was the oldest remaining tenant in the Castle. Not even Basyle was free of her remarks, but they all knew they were caring at heart, for she was like a second mother to them all.

“You know that I feel that my physical deformations should not come in the way of my business, Mable.”

“Being strong of mind is not going to save you from a crippled and dying body.” She worked quickly, removing the bloodied cloth with trained and steady hands. The Advisor cringed slightly as the sting of a Red Potion swab met with his wounds. The medicine worked quickly, the pain ebbing away like a swift tide. Soon he was treated to a new torso wrap and the Head Nurse was looking upon her handiwork with satisfaction. “That should hold you up for a while, just don’t go out of your way and you should be fine.”

The younger nursemaid approached having already replaced the nightstand to its proper position. Holding the broom she had swept the bottle shards in she went on to make anxious eye contact with the two superiors. She opened her mouth once, hesitated and closed it, only to open it again for a new conversation. “If I may ask a quick question.” Her voice was smooth and sweet but shaky nonetheless, obviously a new recruit under Mable’s wing. “Sir Klaus, the entire clergy, your staff, and the Knights’ Guild are well aware of your mastery of poti-,”

Before she could finish the Advisor slowly raised a hand. Klaus bowed his head before speaking, making sure not to show any possible look of contempt for the outdated question. He couldn’t blame her for not knowing, but she had done something worse and he was making preparations for it.

“The current Royal Heir, Sir Klaus, feels that there is something to be won with the cursed scars on his back, my dear. Why? Well, it’s been made very clear it is no one’s business.” And there it was, Mable’s snide voice coming to criticize him again. He couldn’t blame the younger woman, but he sure wish he could share his irk.

“They are a reminder of what I am working toward, milady.” Klaus spoke calmly, keeping his voice slightly loud and agitated as if trying to wean Mable off of her pedestal. “It seems rudimentary, but it means something to me to bear these scars. I will never forget my mentors and what happened to them. My suffering is my debt repaid; they lost their lives for my continuation. It is the least I can do.” Ignoring Mable’s silent protests, he rose from his bed and attempted to stand. Klaus did so successfully, using the cot post for what little stability he could manage.

Brushing his matted hair around to what he felt was suitable, the Advisor continued. “I have since conjured a potion that can heal my scars and stop them from reopening. But they are mine to keep and only mine to prosper through. Mable and I would lose out on our quality time and my will to right the wrongs of criminals could wane without them. That is something I can’t have, not in times like these.” He sighed and peered out at the dark sky. The storm had passed and the Moon was close to breaking free of its clouded prison. The council would have to forgive his absence from the meeting this night, rather he live and miss a conference then attend and pass in his chair.

Dying around men he barely knew was never his strongest ambition. “Maybe someday, when I feel the time is right, I will remove my reminders. But the melancholy might be too much to handle.” He winked as he started to blow the candles out by his bedside, an obvious request to be left alone.

Mable rolled her eyes and folded her arms, pulling out another bottle of Red Potion and setting it on his nightstand. “I will wake you in the morning, Klaus. I imagine Basyle will stop by for a visit to make sure you are still in one piece. Try not to break this bottle, if you would, your stock is running rather low.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mable, you have nothing to worry about with me. I have no other plans tonight.” Klaus lay back into his cot as his medical staff left his bedside. One candle still lit the room, casting eerie shadows upon the masonry and hanging banners. He slowly drifted off to sleep, silently jesting that a board would be more comfortable under his head.

***

The sign was most definitely written in his scrawl. It was too bad he had lost the ability over the years to understand his handwriting or else he’d be in a nice warm bed by now. Yazstromo lay behind the misshapen plank sign he had crafted many years ago as a reminder which way lead to his tower away from home. His crude bed provided a comfortable layer between damp moss and his own dew covered garments. But after many days of travel without much more than a couple mud puddles, he had been unable to bathe or wash his clothes.

“Like a fine cheese, sometimes strong, sometimes meek,” he began to rattle off an old saying he had heard a few centuries back from a travelling Dairy Salesman. “Sometimes pleasant and other times it reeks.” Shuffling through his rations he found a large circle of his poetic subject and just as he was about to cut it, he remembered he was lacking a knife. “Pity, cheddar seemed rather delectable for a moment.”

Yazstromo gazed solemnly up into the dark canopy of the trees. The Sun was beginning to set, but in the opposite direction, showing he still had a way to go. It was starting to draw a few annoyances, having to sit out all night and make sure he wasn’t pilfered by wandering Skull Kids and Stalchildren under the moonlight. Hopefully his journey would come to an end, or at least come to something not so pine-needled. He also gave silent sentiments that Benji was enjoying himself in his stead, but he had wanted an adventure after all.

The woods were starting to get a tad bit old. Wandering the woods at his age was a deathtrap in and of itself, one slip and there would be a broken hip, another would harbour another broken hip. Yazstromo had learned he enjoyed walking quite a lot. Five hundred years had changed him very little; he still seemed as old and as decrepit as ever, hiding a fighting and eccentric spirit under wrinkled experience.

“Now, if I’ve got this right...” He spoke aloud, half wishing he had company until the other half of his thoughts reminded him it would likely be something undead. “The sign seems to say ‘take left’ but what if it actually says ‘turn back’. But that begs the question, why would I place a sign that tells me to go the way I came if the sign before me told me to come here. Maybe I would have assumed I’d get lost eventually by reading a sign incorrectly.” Running the circular logic in his head, Yazstromo absentmindedly packed his things for what seemed the millionth time to continue his travels.

After a few more minutes of deliberation, the Scholarly man snapped his sign in two and added it to his pack for the fire he would inevitably need soon. He pulled out his crude compass and followed it to the leftmost path, the most overgrown and disturbing looking one yet. Walking through the layers of leaves he watched as the trees changed from gnarled to slightly less gnarled. The environment was slowly evolving as he went, the trail becoming less tangled in brambles and the light passing through the leaves suddenly became much more pleasant.

High above him the Sun seemed to cut across the sky as if he had missed night altogether. It was a sure sign he was going the right way. And that was what his final sign informed him as he made it to a final intersection. It was finally Sunset in the proper horizon and the smell of familiar air was on the breeze. Perhaps he’d skip another meeting with Stalchildren, after all, they were terribly antisocial, especially because of the biting.

Yazstromo looked forward to looking up on the rolling hills of Hyrule Field. After the completion of his duties as Advisor to the King of Hyrule, he had parted ways with the Kingdom and settled down in his Tower. He wondered how things were now; he was never sent any letters from anyone who could possibly know where he was. The total of those people happened to add up to none. All he had were his memories of his travels and exploits as a Scholar, as a Prophet, and as an avid cutlery collector. The looks of shock he’d be given when he returned with the spectacle of his partial gift of immortality and for the fact he hadn’t turned to dust by how old he was. He knew there were naysayers of the Prophetic Ones after such a long time, but anyone familiar with the history of the land would, or as he felt, should recognize him, believer or not.

But what would he do with all the attention? Maybe rupees would be involved, but even then he’d probably trade them for seeds or for a small boat. Perhaps he’d come across a nice little shop that sold mechanical sundries, a long lost fascination he once had. Yet as the Sun sank lower and lower and the sky bruised more deeply, Yazstromo picked up his pace.

The trees of the Lost Woods finally began to thin long after he had been expecting them to. Long past forty minutes earlier he had worked up his excitement to arrive in Kokiri Forest. By this time he felt he had long missed his chance. A strong wind caught him by surprise, rustling the branches and bringing with it the pleasant smell of water. Yazstromo struggled to balance his hanging lantern as he worked by faint moonlight to find the source. The calm sounds of waves finally broke through the loud cladding of his feet.

Suddenly the tree line fell away and he found himself surprised to be standing on a sandy shore. A large and unmistakable sight stretched out in front of him. The crescent Moon shone brightly upon the lake, the few stars in the sky twinkled back through wind strewn ripples. Yazstromo walked to the edge and sat down dumbfounded, placing his belongings a few feet away. The water was clear and clean, a few land masses dotted the lake, and far at the other shore the shadows of the Lost Woods continued.

He hadn’t the time to gawk or to try to wrap his head around what he already knew to be a simple reality. Yazstromo dumped his collection of planks and started a much needed fire. The flames danced in the darkness, gracing his hands and face with missed heat.

“Lake Hylia, how you have changed.” The old man could not figure what mood commanded his senses now, the shock of finding such a large landmark where he least expected had already faded. At that moment he was not sure how happy he was to be back in Hyrule, especially if the rest of it was as different as this old lake. “I guess five hundred years can’t change me, but it certainly can you.”

Yazstromo sighed, resigning to the night calm around him. The old twisted tree of Lake Hylia’s previous fame had finally fallen to rot and the remnants of the old Laboratory were down to a primitive foundation. He’d never forgive himself if he had missed out on his last chance to see a living breathing Kingdom. But hope came in an unusual way.

The shadow of a thin man approached from the water’s edge, stopping just out of the ring of light the fire was providing. A cracked voice called out to the nearly dozing Yazstromo, wrenching him out of his dreams.

“Excuse me, but,” the man’s voice shivered as a cool wind rushed the shore from across the water. “Is there any room for one more? I’m kind of lost.” Daedus sat down on the sandy beach, looking down into his hands at his mechanical friend. Yazstromo couldn’t help but have his eyes twinkle in long lost delight.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Toward Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author:Deku Lord
> 
> Original notes: [Here it is folks, last minute and somewhat unedited. Enjoy.]

They had arrived in a large field, the grass under them wilted and the sky overcast. Remnants of Kokiri Village could be seen in the form of burned buildings and short skeletons scattered amidst the wreckages. The deep emerald tree line, filled with life and colour, gave a comfortable contrast to the appearance, and even in its rotting state the Forest was filled with a life giving atmosphere.  
  
The Lost Woods really were something, the Deku Lord thought. He and his companion moved across the field in the general direction of the Great Deku Tree. Even though Jethro had never experienced its huge presence, the stories his friend had told made him uneasy at the sight of the Skulltullas that now nested in its festering canopy, riddled with webs and rotten branches and leaves. The trunk, warped and gnarled as it was, still managed to hold the old tree up. As they walked, the Deku Lord turned his head away in an attempt to eradicate this invasive image of his old friend. The old tree was the only Hyrulean he had ever befriended besides...  
  
“We need to go to the village.”  
  
“The one you told us about last night?”  
  
“Yes, Jethro.”  
  
They continued at a somewhat faster pace, passing by the Kokiri that used to guard the path to the Great Deku Tree, or what was left of him. All that remained were two wooden legs, rooted to the ground and ripped off just below where the knees would have been. Long stale blood clung to the now-petrified stumps, giving growth to new mushrooms around the edges. Jethro shuddered. They continued across the clearing and into the woods, silence overtaking them quickly as they entered. Neither was prepared for what had greeted them upon their arrival in the land of Hyrule.  
  
They slowed their pace as the woods began to darken. The grass became more deadened and matted down, as if it had been treaded on many, many times for the last few ages. Vines and short mushrooms could be seen occasionally growing on and under the trees, and chiselled skeletons were seen from time to time. Deku Baba Sprouts became a common sighting, seeming to grow larger as they treaded deeper into the woods.  
  
A Poe was sighted a bit off travelling the toward the two wooden men, the lantern in its hands swaying gently back and forth by its rusted, half-broken chain and dimly lighting the path in front of it. Its tattered clothes were a pale lavender, accenting its facial features and..  
  
Jethro shuddered again. As he took in the ghosts's features one by one, he looked up to see a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around its head where its 'eyes' would have been. It unsettled him, despite it being a mere apparition. He wondered how a soul became one of these damned, and if they all met with such a terrible fate. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as they passed, but it paid them no heed. Perhaps they were not the aggressors the Deku Lord had made them out to be.  
  
* * *  
  
“There are others here?” Railin called up to the guard towers, his face getting drenched by the downpour in the process. Between the water falling into his eyes and the light of the torches on the guard towers and the general darkness the woods perpetually retained in the afterlife, he couldn't at all see which tower he had been hailed from.  
  
“Of course there are! Why don't you step inside and see?”  
  
The gate was more of a ramp than it was a door. After the guard spoke, the 'gate' was lowered into Krynditch by ropes from the towers, the wood creaking the the rope straining the whole way, before it fell haphazardly onto the ground. Railin began to step forward into the village when he was once again stopped by the yelling voice from above.  
  
“Before you enter,” the guard started quickly, slowing once he saw Railin hold back, “you should know that you'll not be able to leave ever again. This means that you won't see your friends for a very long time, assuming they wind up with the same dismal fate you have.”  
  
“Why couldn't they just find this village while they're alive?”  
  
“This village exists only in the afterlife. In the real world, this is just a clearing with a haunting feel to it. What's special about that clearing is that, if a mortal soul dies inside of it while wandering the Lost Woods, they'll be spared the fate of those who die inside of it, instead being deposited directly into Krynditch. In fact, you're lucky you died in Crandall. The ones who die in the woods can't seem to enter our village at all..”  
  
The guard's voice trailed off. Seeing no other alternative, Railin proceeded inside the village, looking around in a small daze. The gate slammed back up behind him, making the walls of the village shudder and creak. Looking around at the weather-worn village, he sighed at his fate, resigning himself to having to occupy a house like one of these forever. They were arranged in rows, perhaps to accommodate more souls, although the village interior looked as though it far exceeded the boundaries of the exterior. Each house was a single floored cabin of sorts, each with enough for a couple rooms with which to cook and relax, and perhaps an upper loft. All he could do now was wonder how the guard knew so much about him as he took his first steps into eternity.  
  
* * *  
  
After a while, they strode into the familiar village-outpost hybrid the Deku Lord had once known. At a glance the village appeared unchanged, but closer examination revealed that it had not been occupied actively in a very long time. Small vines were starting to creep up the five buildings, and moss was beginning to overtake the Forest pedestal on one side. There were not the usual footprints present in the grass, and the torches on all the buildings had long since fizzled out and rotted away; most weren't even present in their holders. The upper floor of the left residential building had entirely collapsed, with bits of standing wallposts left intact; its twin on the right was decayed to the point were it might collapse to that point soon anyway. The vines that had once adorned the huts had either rotted back into the ground or been stolen. Certainly anything that wasn't one of the Forest folk would have been unable to live for more than a few days here, and would have been forced to continue their trek into the endless maze of the Demon Woods.  
  
They proceeded toward the Forest Potions shop, the Deku Lord noting that the Forest Pedestal no longer held its familiar glow. If they wished to use it to leave, they would be forced to restore it. He instructed Jethro to branch off into the Foreign Goods shop and look for a jar with the label “Forest Essence” containing, ironically, a thick, fiery liquid that would be warm to the touch.  
  
The Deku Lord stepped inside the Forest Potions shop, moving aside the now ripped worn curtain; he was met with the image of his old Kokiri guard, standing in his usual stance: hunched over a bit, hands on the counter, head drooping down a bit. But, this time he didn't bother to look up at his company.  
  
“Who's there!?” He barked out this inquiry quickly, masking any fear he may have had of an unpleasant intruder. The Deku Lord took a closer look at his friend, first noticing that his arms faded from flesh into wood, ending with roots grown into the counter-top. His entire body appeared to be decaying slowly, and bark had grown on the back of his neck and down under his shirt and vest. Further inspection revealed that something much like a nest of maggots was devouring his right shoulder. The front of his neck was reddened and had small cuts all over it.  
  
“ **Who's there!?** ” The demand came again, sharper and more fearful this time.  
  
“Mister Nightfield,” the Deku Lord began, regaining his composure, “what happened here?”  
  
“You.. it's been so long.. there was a man in a dark cloak with violet emblems. They glowed red when he..!”  
  
The Kokiri looked up at the Deku Lord, staring at him with eyes that had been turned entirely to wood. They moved about, as if searching for something to fixate upon, but it was clear they could see nothing. He cried out in agony, grief finally overcoming him after so many years.  
  
“Please! Save me from this awful existence!”


	21. Chapter Twenty: Disillusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Femm

Fulkrome silently made his way back toward the house he and Femm had called their temporary home. He'd decided to leave the town for a while the day before while Femm had declared she was going to patrol the area. There had been no sense in him staying at the Old Capital if he'd have nothing to do all day. Unfortunately, even when he did head out, nothing special occurred, although he did hear some sort of fight break out that night. When the clashing of swords died down he made the decision that it couldn't have been anything too horrible and continued on his way. Now he sort of wished he'd investigated the fight, at least it would have been more interesting than making his way through the dark of night.

He entered the house, noticing that the family was out, Femm sitting with her back toward him. As he casually walked toward her, she suddenly vanished from sight, the familiar black sword now against his armour. Part of him wondered what good that would do in a real fight.

“Why are you paranoid all of a sudden?” he inquired as the blade was removed from his vision. “Or are you usually like that?”

“Sorry, I was being followed yesterday,” she muttered, “at first I figured it was just someone wanting a fight, as usual, but when they didn't confront me I began to wonder what their real purpose was.” She walked around the Darknut, turning absentmindedly to face him, “call me paranoid if you want, but I think we might have some weird new visitors.”

“As long as they aren't any worse than the rest of the criminals around here, I don't see any problem with it,” Fulkrome shrugged. “You might want to investigate it just in case though.” He was curious himself, but didn't allow his voice to betray him with that fact. Of course, he was more interested in investigating himself, but with his large form and inability to sneak around in a crowd full of Hylians, there was no chance he'd be able to find anything out.

“My thoughts exactly,” she exited the house without another word, but Fulkrome could feel the sudden tension in the air.

A new group of possible criminals hiding out here, there really wasn't anything too important about that. There was one reason that they could have been following Femm, however. The symbol of the Sheikah worn on the back of her cloak would make her seem like a Scribe from Kakariko village, meaning they must have caused some trouble there to be cautious enough to check her out from afar.

If a scribe were to enter this Old Capital, the type of trouble that could rise from their very presence here would be enough to send the entire city of criminals into a riot. That sort of chaos would bring backup and then nearly the whole area would have to be taken care of. Fulkrome inwardly winced, he could only hope that this wasn't the case because of the many innocent lives that called this place home as well.

************** ***************** *****************

After having returned to the area Tiviri had decided they were to stay in, the atmosphere had generally stayed tense, causing those that had no idea of Tap's and Kaz's past to become rather annoyed by the matter. They'd somehow managed to get some sleep, but only after the two had made sure there was as much space as possible away from each other. By the time morning came, Will finally decided to question them.

“Why are you guys basically avoiding each other?” he asked with an exasperated tone, “because how things are right now, it looks like we're going to be stuck with each other for a while, although I guess one of you could always leave.”

“We'll be fine,” Tap muttered, “our last encounter just sort of...brings back bad memories, that's all.”

Kaz merely looked away, “anyway, we have to try and come up with an area to go to after this. Darius isn't going to stay unconscious forever and a whack in the head wouldn't be enough to make him forget about Tiviri. That guy is determined to find him and bring him in.”

“Wasn't he after me too?” Will questioned, “I mean, I am one of the most wanted men around and now I'm working with Tiviri. Okay, not exactly 'working with' him, but you guys know what I mean. Is Tiveri really that important to this guy?” he glanced over at the Twili in question, “what was it that you stole again? Some stone that was important to the Sheikah?”

Tiviri took a deep breath from his pipe before expelling the smoke, “Yes, it was a stone. Although technically I never stole it, it originally belonged to my race. It was the Sheikah that stole it from us and called it their own. In truth, I just took back what belonged to me which did indeed cause them to become angered.”

“At Kakariko, they said that the artifact didn't even work,” Naomi stated, remembering what Kaz had informed them that day they'd entered the city. “Many of the people weren't interested in it because of that, but for some reason it bothered the Sheikah. None of them know that it had never belonged to them?”

The Twili shrugged, “It doesn't matter. One scribe is not enough to get the Seeking Stone back from me and I have no interest in giving it back to those that are not only unable to use it but call it their own when it doesn't belong to them in the first place. The stone will be needed in our journey.”

Tap sighed in frustration. Another journey, huh? At least it would be a bit more interesting than what she'd been doing the past years after Kaz left. “Alright, so now that we're officially off topic, could we maybe get back to thinking about where we should go next?”

“Why don't we go South East of here to a place known as Darik Village?” Jaros suddenly inquired, “they say it's an old ghost town now. People don't tend to go around there due to the rumours of poes having taken a liking for the place.”

“That sounds great,” Kaz nodded, “though we should stay here a little longer before heading out. There isn't exactly a hurry and it seems to me Tiviri has no interest in leaving yet.”

“Why would you-?” Naomi glanced over at their other companion, now sitting on the ground with his back against the old brick wall to their left. “Oh, I see,” she sighed, “fine, we can stay for a while. Though we really need to be careful.”

************* ***************** ******************* *************

“I see that you're back,” Fulkrome stated as his companion walked through the door. “Looks like you didn't find anything out. If that's the case, they can't be that important. Maybe they've even already left here.”

“I doubt it, no one has left this place yesterday night or today; they're still here, just hiding somewhere,” she replied with a harsh tone. “Anyway, it doesn't concern you. If you're staying in tonight then go to sleep, I can see that the others have already done so.”

“Fine, I can see that you're in your usual bad mood,” he muttered, leaning against the wall he was sitting by.

The fire place crackled as Femm absentmindedly moved the wood around, having taken one of the still burning sticks out of the fire. Even in the near silence of the house, she couldn't help but feel as though something was honing in on her, like someone was walking toward the house. Just as she was pushing these thoughts aside, a low creak was heard from the main entrance.

Quickly standing up, burning stick in hand, she noticed a shadow slowly entering the house, closing the door behind themselves. Throwing the stick, she was surprised to see it suddenly come to a halt in front of the creature's face. He didn't exactly look like a Hylian or Sheikah, having the coloured skin that he did, but she recognized it from somewhere.

“Who are you?” she questioned harshly, “and what is your reason for coming here at this time of night?” What was she thinking? This was a town full of criminals, why ask this person what they were doing when the answer was obvious? Still, from the way he was just standing there in front of the door, unmoving and silent, that in itself made it clear he wasn't there to steal from the owners of this house.

“My name is Tiviri,” he replied, sucking the pipe in his mouth, expelling a few smoke rings. “I was guided to you by an object I have. It seems you have even more magical energy than any Hylian I have met thus far and what's more, you have impeccable control over most of it. If I may question, what sort of race are you from?”

Femm stared at him for a moment, “it doesn't matter what race I'm from. You seem like a nice enough person, so how about you turn around and leave right now...?” she trailed off, noticing the stone in his hands for the first time. She'd seen it before; the Seeking Stone. It was said to be a Sheikah artifact, but her father informed her that it came from another race all together. “You're a Twili?”

Tiviri gave her a questioning glance, “there are few that know of my race, how is it that you know of it?”

Sighing, she decided to answer his question. “I'm what you could call a 'half-breed', my being half-Sheikah, half-Demon. The one that told me of your race was my Father, the demon of my family. That stone you have, that was in Kakariko, how did you manage to get a hold of it?”

“It was relatively simple, although I won't go into detail about it. A half-Sheikah, half-demon female, that's something I'd yet to hear about during my time in this world.”

“Not surprising, I'm the only one that I've ever come across during my journeys.”

“Femm, if you were going to talk so loud to yourself, why did you want me to-?” Fulkrome stopped, eyeing the stranger standing before them. Standing, he glared, “I've heard legends of your kind, the red eyed-demons that once tried to take over Hyrule.”

Tiviri's gaze moved to Fulkrome, “and you are a Darknut, correct? Your kind killed many of the Hylians, so the old Legends say.”

“How about we take this outside, there are people trying to sleep and this house doesn't exactly keep noise out very well,” he growled. “I've made a decision to kill all of those that are evil, so it would seem you're my next opponent.”

“Fulkrome,” Femm snapped, “stop with your 'I'm going to kill all those that are evil', speech for a minute. You don't even know who he is. If I had been like that when we first met you'd be dead right now,” her voice was cold again, causing the Darknut to sigh with annoyance.

“Fine, we can fight some other time, 'red-eyed demon',” he muttered with distaste.

Tiviri glanced out of the nearby window, it had been late when he decided to use the seeking stone and now dawn was beginning to approach them. “I have to get back to my companions, it's a wonder none of them awoke when I left. Perhaps the future will bring our two groups together.”

“I doubt that,” Femm turned a cool gaze toward the Twili. “When you get back to your friends, let that girl with the fox and the boy with the rapiers know that the 'Scribe' said they're horrible at keeping their distance.”

He nodded, faintly amused that the two had gotten close enough for her to be able to pick out those details. Turning toward the door he remembered the glowing stick of wood that was still floating in front of him, “You can have your stick back.”

With that, the piece of wood flew back toward the fireplace, but before it could reach its destination, the fire suddenly consumed it. The ball of fire moved to rotate around Femm, her gaze slightly colder from before. “Leave before I'm forced to take matters into my own hands.”

Tiviri opened the door and sunk back into the light morning darkness. He was surprised that the people living there had allowed a Dark Nut and a mysterious yet knowingly powerful female stay at their house, having it also being occupied by a child.

“Go back to sleep,” Femm sighed, “we didn't wake you up did we?” The fire ball took its spot within the raging flame still burning in the fire place.

“Alright,” she yawned, “and I was just getting some water.”

After the child finally went back to bed, Fulkrome sat down again, leaning back against the wall, Femm staying to sit in front of the fire place. After a few minutes of silence, he decided to question her, “so, was that your Father?”

She stared at him, “From now on, remind me to introduce you as 'Fulkrome the idiot.' My Father has been dead for years.”


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: The Stars on Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes: Alright.
> 
> Rather than keep you all waiting an eternity I have decided to break my chapter into two parts. Yes this means you all have to wait a while longer, but it also means you get to read the first 6000 words or so. I will either delete this post and replace it with the full segment so it shows Blue on the forums, or well, I can do a lot of other stuff :P.
> 
> So remember: no one is writing during this next period (still) as I have to conclude this piece. Enjoy what I have so far, it's fairly rough and unedited so don't shoot me.

Only a few cinders were left smouldering in the ash. The Moon had taken over the job of lighting their camp, the flames forgotten for rest and relaxation. It had been a last minute venture; with the ailing Klaus they were given the only direct order of leaving the Castle by dusk. Benjamin had been tasked with heading this Second Convoy to meet Ashtar’s Caravan; at least, it was the second attempt at fulfilling the trip.  
  
Many of the straggling Knights those few hours earlier had been rounded up like caught mice to populate three carriages. Benjamin, having served as one of the most prominent captains in the Guild for nearly ten years, was caught gathering his wools to return home. James and Zachary were enlisted from their bedside in the Old Knight’s Tower and assigned duties on different carriages. The overall mood that night was of sleepy regret and disinterest with their mission. Sir Jonathan of the Council was the only man who seemed miffed about the whole ordeal, sitting stark still in his Carriage, eyes scanning the dark windows in inexplicable fear.  
  
None of them enjoyed hearing the fate of the previous knights sent to meet Ashtar. In the morning light they would leave with their Official, Jonathan, into the borders of Labrynna, haphazardly ready for the threat that could befall them. But now, under the moonlight all subjects of the Kingdoms were subject to, the idea of death was hardly enough to lose sleep over. Only Jonathan and Benjamin remained awake, Jonathan in his skittish demeanour and candlelight, Benjamin in his half-hearted vigilance to guard the camp under velvet skies.  
They had chosen to camp near a small precipice, its depth repetitive as the soldiers in their waning hours of consciousness had taken a liking to tossing down rocks and pebbles on the trailside. Benjamin would have to wake them soon, they wouldn’t enjoy travelling through the winding paths of Death Mountain and its opposite foothills in heavy fog. Once, many years prior bandits had called this area a haven, why none lived here anymore was a mystery to them all, nothing had changed.  
  
Even after all that time some of their belongings had still been left in caves, untouched, rusted and worthless. Crude foundations dotted short flats in the Mountain’s sides where huts once sat, the homes of pillaged belongings, rapists, murderers, and thieves. That dark past seemed to echo here and spread across all of Hyrule. History was a subject all Hylians knew too well.  
  
In the hours of travel they had already passed, troubling news surfaced from Kakariko City. Scribes of varying ranks had replaced the Guards in almost every duty by order of Master Orilieus due to the recent robberies and the escape of the individuals. Names had not been dropped; identities had been kept upon sealed lips.  
  
“Klaus is certainly going to wake to one hell of a morning,” Benjamin mused to himself, leaning very dependently upon his carriage, listening to the bated breath of his sleeping companions as it carried out into the night air. Perhaps this was the last and only place where he could find Hyrule in its long lost peace and beauty. Someday even this haven from the chaos of the outside world would find its way back to a hellish past. The cold wind forced his shudder, his breath coiling away into the night air like a spectre into darkness.  
  
***  
  
“I’m afraid there is nothing to find there, anymore,” Yazstromo sighed long and hard. Centuries old memories and horrors being had in only a few hours of exposition had him feeling even wearier by the firelight. Soon he’d have to cork his longwinded charisma before he collapsed of exhaustion and painful nostalgia. His guest, however, seemed unfazed, staring back at him the entire time soaking in every sentence. When he heard Yazstromo speak of the Castle beyond the Wood, his heart sank only a little.  
  
The Scholar forced his smile, shaking his head at the whole ordeal. Five hundred years earlier he was telling himself that he’d find solace in what occurred, the friends he lost, but digging down for the young man’s satisfaction had turned out to be more difficult than he ever imagined. Yazstromo had not felt like himself in a very long time.  
  
Daedus raised a single pointed finger, opening his mouth as if to speak but ultimately closing it again. Cinders sparked up by his face as the fire dwindled with the height of the Moon. Surely they had gotten past the idea that after so many years something had brought the men back together, yet it didn’t feel right. The old man seemed exactly the same, but the world in which Daedus embraced so readily thirty years prior, was hardly the world he was kept from.  
  
“Magic is always a wondrous thing, I must say. It is nearly more interesting than the scales of a Hylian Loach. Both shimmer in the light of day, but in the dark there is nothing more black and empty,” Yazstromo tugged at his beard, gazing at Daedus with the utmost curiosity. “It is what has made this meeting possible, you’ve nigh aged three decades since we last met, and certainly I haven’t either,” he chuckled quietly, tracing strange pictures in the sand with his Walking Staff.  
  
“But magic is not always spells, wizards, and witches; magic comes in many more shapes. I find just the idea of the Sun rising to be a magical experience, even if it is made to do so every day,” an owl nearby hooted as if agreeing with his late night ramblings. Daedus was more than surprised to hear such a strange noise come from the blackness around them. “Are there things you consider magical, Daedus?”  
  
For a moment the younger of the two men furrowed his brow, finally opening his mouth with the true intention to speak. “I think everything here is, well, I never got your name...” He trailed off, clutching Lewis tightly, keeping him out of sight. Now that he thought of it, he never recalled telling him his name either.  
  
“My name is Yazstromo, friend of many a peculiar breed. You could say I am a connoisseur of eccentric people and things,” shuffling around, he plucked a long dead mollusc shell out of the sand, throwing it into the pitiful flames. “I remember quite vividly your fascination all those years ago with fireworks and collectables. I hope you did not want your forks back; I finally grew tired of cutlery and sold them. A man can only stand being prodded by sharp metal objects so many times.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry, Yazstromo,” Daedus struggled pronouncing his companion’s name, his tongue unfamiliar with such an obscure sounding title. Obviously the older man was given some glee by his difficulty, but Daedus knew it was all in good nature. “My collecting days ended long, long ago. Believe me, it was hardly a tiresome time...”  
  
The owl called again, waking a few cranky and loud crows in a nearby tree. Yazstromo scooped up a handful of sand and dumped it over their worn fire, snuffing it out almost immediately.  
  
“Wait, aren’t we going to need that tonight, to keep the anima-,” Daedus was shushed promptly on his own accord as Yazstromo ceremoniously removed a familiar looking firework and set it upon the previous fire pit. Striking one of his matches he lit the fuse on the small rocket. After only a few seconds and ears were plugged, the firework took off into the starry sky where it exploded loudly and into a flurry of rich reds, violets, and blues.  
  
“I think that will keep the bears away from gnawing our heads. We haven’t the wood to spare for the fire anyway. It is bad luck to cut the trees of the Lost Wood, you know.” The Scholarly man sat back down, brushing away all of his crudely drawn symbols with his blanket. Tossing his second sheet to Daedus, Yazstromo flopped down with as much elegance as a Moblin. His company mimicked the same, setting the ailing Lewis in a dry hovel in the sand beside him.  
  
Only the wind made any sort of noise now. The fire was gone, only a few glowing sticks remained, their heat quickly lost to the darkness. High above the remaining shower of lights from the rocket finally faded against the stars, leaving an even stronger smoky smell around their camp. It was pleasant for both men, lying on opposite sides of the fire pit, their eyes fixated on the bright Moon.  
  
Yazstromo broke what was nonchalantly established as resting hours.  
  
“How was it you knew of the Castle beyond the Wood, Daedus? Not even those in the Royal Family devote their minds to the knowledge of such things,” the question was legitimate and harmless upon execution. Before the sweating Daedus could reply, Yazstromo gave a muffled laugh. “A little birdie told you, didn’t he?”  
  
Daedus said nothing. Had he not hidden Lewis carefully enough that evening, or had all those years finally caught up to him? Had Yazstromo finally figured he was the thief of his rusted little friend? Even worse, did he let him take him away?  
  
“Do not fret about those days gone by,” Yazstromo soothed. “Truth be told, I wasn’t very fond of Lewis in the first place. He can be very obnoxious some weeks.” He smiled to himself as he knew his friend across the sand was returning the gesture.  
  
And they both concluded in their own minds that if Lewis were still in any condition to do so, he would have smirked just the same. However a small metallic bird could.  
  
***  
  
She had hardly slept an hour that night. Rocking to and fro on the creaking chair; discovering the squeak she had first thought of the rest of her comrades, before remembering he was just in the other room. The rest of them would have to live with her slight sadistic mood, just for a little while. When Tiveri had left, Tap had pretended to be asleep in her seat, facing one of the few windows in their hideout. Through the corner of her eye she watched him thoroughly check everyone else’s state except hers. The reasons why he didn’t bother, she had not a clue.  
  
Kip lay silent in her lap, unaware that he was the only one sleeping. He seemed to be dreaming, his legs twitching as if in chase, his teeth chewing back and forth across her tattered cap. Snores from the men were soft from the other room, their unknown sound causing the fox’s ears to pull back in their own unconscious curiosity. For a long time he had acted as Tap’s comforting force, but as hard as Kip may have tried, he wasn’t able to sew up the aging hole in her heart. Having Kaz here brought her more agony than she had ever imagined.  
  
“You do need your rest.”  
  
The deep voice startled her from her thoughts and her chair, unceremoniously dumping Kip onto the floor. Tiveri held up his hands in the faint moonlight to calm her as best as his bizarre figure could. He watched the fox regain its senses, swearing it shot him a glare before jumping into Tap’s empty seat.  
  
“I think that’s something that’s my business,” Tap turned away, her hand clamped on her arm in a bashful manner. After only a few seconds of quiet she decided to speak. “Shouldn’t you be resting? After all, you’ve been out quite a while tonight.”  
  
Surprised again by his actions, she watched him chuckle and fold his arms. “Shifting the focus is a long dead trick if my time in this Kingdom has taught me well,” he coughed, noting that his smoking was getting a bit out of control from all of this stress. “One could never guess that such a conservative shell housed a feisty core of a girl,” he noted Tap blush and fluster at the remark, amused by the novelty of seeing such emotions from a hardened warrior. Perhaps the guise of the title was simply that.  
  
“What do you even want?” Picking up her fallen cap, Tap placed it on Kip’s once again sleeping head. “Last time I checked you weren’t exactly the talkative type, skulking around behind everyone’s backs.”  
  
“I can understand if you’re not pleased by my, how will I put this, choice of vocabulary. But I hardly think we have enough time to discuss matters of my relations with Hyrulings,” he watched her twinge as if he had spoken some sort of slur. Were all of these Hylians this sensitive? “Not to leave you embittered,” Tiveri continued, taking a seat across the small room effectively reducing his height to match that of Tap standing. “But if you must know, the Stone beckoned me away.”  
  
The Twili glanced to the partially cracked door to the other room, watching the huddled shadows of his companions shudder with each breath. “There is someone with considerable strength hiding in this city. I felt it wise to try to find whoever they were. I was successful,” he activated the stone as he spoke, gazing into its brilliant lustre. “But only momentarily.”  
  
Tap gave him a puzzled gaze, slowly opening the idea of speaking with the strange creature. Once she had been distrustful of another man only to learn it was for naught, perhaps Tiveri would repeat his actions. “Momentarily? Who did you find?”  
  
“It was a Sheikah, but certainly of a different breed. She wore the Eye in the Old City, a foolish endeavour,” Tiveri snapped the Seeking Stone from its hanging pose, almost entranced by the light shining through his fingers. “There are many criminals here who would certainly enjoy having her head on their mantle, Scribe or not. Why she wears her emblem so proudly with her blood and despite her strength, I do not understand.”  
  
“Then I guess we don’t have to worry about her trying to turn us in then, which is all the better,” Tap watched as her companion deactivated the Stone and returned it to its place. After a moment of silence, she felt obligated to continue the conversation. “When do you supp-,”  
  
“Her name was Femm, she bears company with a Darknut, the last creature I expected to meet here,” Tiveri placed his pipe in his mouth before shaking his head and setting it aside, as if trying to quit then and there. “Foul company amongst a city of fetid felons may not be the wisest thing a Sheikah has ever done. Though with the case of the Scribe of Kakariko, there is some competition.”  
  
Tap felt like she should smile, deriving at least a hint of humour on the Twili’s solemn face. After forcing the expression she had been without since Kaz arrived, the Innocent watched her company stand again, towering over her as he made his way to the window.  
“Soon Darius will become wise as to what has happened. Perhaps the Hyruling Male you’ve come to find such distaste with shall be heralded a noble no longer,” Tiveri closed his glowing eyes, letting the moonlight’s tendrils ebb at his strength. “The Old Capital is only a temporary haven for us. Words will fly about our presence soon enough,” he turned to Tap and awkwardly placed his hand on her shoulder. “Now wouldn’t be the time to let personal vendettas get in the way of survival. If the Scribe finds you and your friends with Hyruling Desesperacion and me, our fate will become yours.”  
  
The Innocent’s eyes fell to the floor, trying to find some reason to combat Tiveri’s words. She hadn’t much time to think before he yet again changed the subject.  
  
“There is someone else in the Capital walls with powers unlike any other I’ve sensed. I fear that it may be some sort of Bounty Hunter, sent to retrieve us in the light of Darius’s decommission,” Tiveri approached the door, tracing his fingers around the edges. Suddenly a faint aura came to life through the cracks, deep violet and calming. The spell was weak but would keep out any amateur magician and every thief. “Femm’s presence prevents me from finding whoever this might be. They are both powerful individuals, it’s as if they can overload the Seeking Stone’s sense of direction.”  
  
“So ever the more reason to get as far away from here as we can.”  
  
The two were surprised to hear the cool voice emerge from the next room. Jaros approached, looking wide awake, likely eavesdropping the entire time. “If Orilieus is as smart a man as his followers speak of him, this ‘Bounty Hunter’ might very well be some of his best Scribes sent to sweep one of the most notorious hideouts in the entire Kingdom.”  
  
Tiveri mused over the idea, ultimately shaking his head. “No, this is different from any Scribe in Kakariko. If Orilieus’s men were swarming the Old Capital, tonight would hardly be so quiet. It might be better if we stay together during our visit, take in the ‘sights’ as you call it. We can’t afford to be separated when and if we have another enemy treading our path.”  
  
“And what are we supposed to do when the Knight’s Guild line the streets in just two more days?” Jaros unravelled a small piece of parchment he had stored in his pocket. It was the same advert Tap had come across in Kakariko City. Soon the fantastic splendour of the Festival would grace the Capital, but it was not just a time for celebration. Whispers of trouble gathering the several Ambassadors for the Royal Banquet were beginning to take hold in the Old City, foreboding words to cloud the reputation of the Autumn Festival even further.  
  
“Then we will not break the Season’s tradition,” the Twili turned his back to the Lyos, making short time across the room to return to his chair. “We shall give the Knights something memorable to do while on their posts.”  
  
Tap could see the gears working in the minds of the two men in her company. A clash of interests would get them nowhere. But right now she could find no reason to be interested. As long as she wasn’t paired with Kaz, she would be content. However, something told her that if Naomi had her way, she and Kaz would never get out of each other’s sight.  
  
“We should be resting,” Tiveri spoke quietly, his voice passive to his suggestion. “Who knows what the morning could bring? There may be news of strange company we may not want to hear,” he ignored his temporary willpower and lit his pipe. Rings of smoke drifted into the waning moonlight. The Twili couldn’t remember when either of his company had left him alone; it was morning before he knew it.  
  
***  
  
The following morning was cool, as it should have been. Winds cut across the chilled lake, the warm water lapping away the shoreline frost. Leaves fell in droves, ripped from their summer abodes to scatter aimlessly across the land. Signs of the previous night’s habitation were all but erased; only the outlines of two men could be found depressed into the sand. In the hours of the evening even these would be washed away with Lake Hylia’s gradual tides. High above the Moon faded into the dawn sky.  
  
Lewis bobbed up and down on Daedus’s shoulder. Their companion had at first reluctantly offered his cooking oils to help the tiny machine move again; but after a few disappointed and glum looks, Yazstromo gave in. “When you have the hankering for fried vegetables, or a slightly less fishy tasting fish, then that’s too bad,” he had said as he delicately dabbed at Lewis’s figure, smiling smugly as he worked. He was a good man, not just for helping Daedus’s mechanical friend, but for accepting his company in spite of his actions in their brief past.  
Daedus hoped that this was the sort of courtesy all people shared in Hyrule, but something told him not to get his ideas skewed by the kindness of only a few. But it was through the work of these compassionate people that truly made him fall in love with residing someplace else rather than that infernal hut. He may have had everything he needed to survive, the necessities to continue through his terminal existence. But even he had learned he was not really _living_.  
  
“Now if I have my bearings,” Yazstromo stopped abruptly in front of Daedus, nearly being run over in the process. Plucking a nearby reed, the Scholarly Man fell to his rump and began to draw a crude map. “We’ve travelled at least three hours worth in this direction,” he traced a scraggly line roughly north on his chart from the Lake.  
  
“This looks nothing like what I remember,” Lewis’s voice slowly shrieked from his plated beak, literally rusted from years of silence. “Where is it that you’re taking us?”  
  
Yazstromo at first seemed to ignore the question, before simply shrugging and continuing to draw his symbols for various locations even he shouldn’t have been familiar with. Perhaps it was another one of those reverse elderly moments he had become accustomed to, but his role as a Prophet was long dead. He decided to attribute it to incredible luck and his incredible skills at completely guessing.  
  
“We’ll go wherever our path takes us. I’d love to do some sightseeing after so long. But if we keep going in this direction,” Yazstromo blindly waved his free arm in a random direction to the northeast. “I think we’ll get to Kakariko quite reasonably soon.”  
  
Lewis squawked his disapproval as best he could. Daedus stopped and hummed over the idea. “I don’t think we’ll enjoy it very much there. I ate at this small little tavern,” he turned around and pointed before realizing he had no idea which direction was what anymore after all this travelling. Quickly he pulled himself together and tried to pass over the mistake. “The man there told me that things weren’t going very well in this part of the world, lots of bad people running amuck. I can’t imagine the City being much better.”  
  
“I suppose you are right, but where else could we go? If the whole Kingdom is on its knees thanks to criminals, as you say, I can’t imagine there being anything to look forward to,” Yazstromo sounded glum, as he should have been. But after wiping away his crafty map he still had that same glint in his eye. Maybe his optimism would make the trip, but five hundred years was a long time.  
  
What if Hyrule broke his heart?  
  
Yet before the first Advisor could express his feelings any further, there was a rustling and snapping of the brambles nearby. Daedus, having yet experienced everything the world had to offer, could not seem to choose between reacting with fear or with curiosity. Lewis lamented his ability to fly, choosing to stiffly hop an inch closer to his owner’s head; the days when he could hide _in_ one were beginning to be sorely missed.  
  
The snorts of horses came next from the brush, soon followed by two of the animals underneath armoured riders. One was a Hylian and the other a Zora, both bearing arms and the crests of their respective Royal Armies on their chest plates.  
  
“You two! What are you doing trespassing on the Southern Grounds?” The voice of the Zora was deep, his specialized tunic hiding much of his face and physique. He seemed to be quite small, but that meant he was very agile, even with such heavy armaments weighing him down.  
  
“Southern Grounds? I’m sorry; I haven’t been to Hyrule in quite some time, I’m afraid we’re a bit lo-,”  
  
“It is by the decree of the Royal Advisor of the King that no one approaches the Village,” this time the Hylian spoke, he seemed to be a veteran of sorts, tired eyes and aged skin peered out from under his helmet. It seemed fitting that an experienced warrior was hired for such an important job. Whatever that job might have been.  
  
“A Hylian village? in the middle of the Forest?” Yazstromo began to trace his mental map in midair, his finger shaking slightly as he went. The two Soldiers gave Daedus a puzzled look, only to watch him merely shrug and proceed to sit down on the damp ground.  
  
“Are you sure he should be out in a place like this?” The Zora pointed a thumb back at the mumbling Yazstromo, trying to raise a response from the complacent Daedus. He had gained at least some knowledge of authoritative figures and how to behave around them in his past visits, but he was amazed at seeing an entirely different race of creature.  
  
“Ah!” Yazstromo chimed as he tugged at his beard in thought. Spinning on his heels he hummed for a few seconds more, finally raising his fist into the sky as if to mark a grand proclamation worthy of the Gods. “Nope, no clue what you fine fellows are talking about.”  
  
The Hylian soldier shook his head and sighed. He went about gesturing his free hand down to Yazstromo, beckoning him to take it. After a slight fumbling and a gruff snort of disapproval from the steed, the old man was seated behind the rider. “I think you’re in need of our assistance.”  
  
“Wonderful! It has been ages since I’ve ridden a horse,” Yazstromo clapped, winking at his travelling companion, noting that he was putting on a senile ruse just for a free ride out of the woods. What simple cunning was possible of doing, or as the Scholarly man felt was what wonderful luck he had been having.  
  
Daedus and Lewis were helped up by the Zora, who seemed indifferent to the whole thing. “I think the next time you choose a venue to walk with your father, you might want to check a map first.”  
  
“But he isn’t my fath-,” the younger of the aging men interjected, only to be interrupted stiffly.  
  
“Sir Klaus would not be pleased if we let our guard down,” the Aquatic Knight pulled on the reins of his horse and began to head back into the trees from whence he came. His partner followed suit. “They say Darik Village is haunted with the Poes of those killed in cold blood back when the Advisor was younger.”  
  
“Sounds spooky,” Yazstromo chirped from behind them, grabbing at leaves and twigs as they rode along, mistakenly knocking his driver in the back of the head. There was a slight grumble of incoherent words from the man but nothing vulgar. At least that’s what Daedus had heard. “Wait...,” the old man cleared his plate of ideas for appearing senile to ask a sensible question. A question that meant a lot to him no less. “This young Klaus is Advisor to the King?”  
  
The Hylian Knight peered over his shoulder, his look cast in doubt and scepticism. “ _Sir Klaus_ has served on the Council for many ye-,”  
  
“And what is this ‘Sir’ business? Shouldn’t he be a Lord, mind you that job is not easy!” Yazstromo tugged at his beard, a judgmental index finger raised into the air as if he were lecturing.  
  
“You two aren’t from around here, are you?” Daedus’s rider spoke matter-of-factly as they cleared the Forest, returning to the sprawling fields of Hyrule. In the distance there could be seen a few smokestacks rising to greet the sky. No doubt that was the village these men were in charge of.  
  
Lewis was about to speak, the opening of his beak making a sharp sound. His owner gave him a darted look, surprised neither guard had asked what was sitting on his shoulder. Taking the glance to stay quiet, Daedus tried to fumble together some sort of response. “We’ve been travelling. My father,” using the term came out queer on his tongue. “Well, he has gotten ill and it was decided he wanted to visit Hyrule just once more. Even if he can’t appreciate it, I’ve done something for him in spirit.”  
  
_What a romantic one he is_ , Yazstromo smiled meekly looking up at the sky before trying to continue his ranting. However, he was defeated as the Hylian Soldier pulled back on the reins to stop his horse and proceeded to hop off to the ground. Further ahead the Zora mimicked the action.  
  
“I’m afraid we can’t escort you any further,” the man motioned towards Yazstromo to be helped down. “Despite trespassers being rare, if we were caught away from our posts the Sir Klaus would have our swords.”  
  
“Not a problem, young lad,” Yazstromo landed delicately on his rump. He wasn’t even sure if that was on purpose for a hopeless ruse. His backside was none too impressed. “Civilization is but... How close is the next town to here?” Starting again, his hand was lowered from midair by the helpful soldier, who was using his finger to point them in the right direction.  
  
“An hour’s walk from here you should find a suitable place for the night among the mountains,” the soldier appraised the two senior men and shook his head. “The Gorons at the Protectorate might find you a liability but nonetheless I hope you two can be lucky enough to find another escort there. These fields are dangerous even in daylight. Hide your fancier trinkets and keep to yourselves, if not for the bandits I would have a clearer conscience doing this.”  
  
Yazstromo shook his head and placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You won’t have to fear for my safety, I’ve been told I pack quite a formidable punch,” he left their company with a sly smile and a wink for good measure. The Scholarly Man beckoned Daedus to accompany him onto familiar looking hills.  
  
“Gorons, Yazstromo? Even in my time here I have not heard kind words about the creatures,” Lewis chirped before hacking away another chip of his rusted beak. Maybe talking would have to wait until he was properly repaired. What could another few days hurt?  
  
“You have nothing to fret over, Lewis, as they say, the hardest exterior only ends up covering the softest hearts.”  
  
“Who says that?” Daedus replied.  
  
“Haven’t the slightest, my good Daedus, none at all.”  
  
The Sun shone at their backs, the cool winds of autumn encircling their journey hardened feet. To where they would take the two men this time, neither knew. At this time of life, everything was worth the trip.  
  
***  
  
“What?!” Klaus boomed, the ornamental quill in his hand breaking in two. He slammed his fist on the brittle pieces of his pen, trying to find an outlet for his temper. Around him the council were seated, Klaus sitting at the right hand of the King, who seemed just as furious at the man at the end of the table. He was a fresh recruit to the Knight’s Guild, his final testing before being sworn in was to act with superior officers at Kakariko City.  
  
And now his career was tarnished at his failure, and at Orilieus’s request to send him for an audience with the Capital Council.  
  
“You’re telling me that with all the resources Orilieus has in his City,” the Advisor closed his eyes, trying to regain the little composure he had at this time of morning. “A dozen Sheikah Scribes and fifty stationed Hylian Guards were unable to handle two criminals?”  
  
“That is, I suppose, a summar-,” the young Knight was interrupted by the deep voice of the King. In a lapse of masculinity, he let out a shrill whimper at his dignity’s expense.  
  
“Two notably dangerous criminals enter one of the most heavily guarded cities in all the Kingdoms, and this is the best that can be done?” King Basyle attempted to hide his outrage, but his crimson face shone like a beacon of both embarrassment and fury. “You have me understand that this ‘shadow’ manages to steal away a prized relic from under Master Orilieus’s nose, a Sheikah relic no less! Does he not realize how much of a struggle it has been to cleanse the ties between our peoples?”  
  
The councilmen all shared their own looks of worry and disgust at the news. This young man had been sent by Orilieus to brief the Lords of the Capital Council about the situation at Kakariko City. Whether it was a snub that he not appear personally or a genuine inability to attend, they would soon discover.  
  
“Orilieus has always been a considerate man, the Council is aware of this,” Klaus broke the clamour of whispers and darting looks he was being given by the messenger at the table’s end. “If he wishes to apologize to this council about his ignorance or lack of competence at apprehending the troublemakers of Kakariko, I bid you return to him with the request. We are all anxious to hear what he has to say, and what he has been doing since Desesperacion’s and the shadow’s escape.”  
  
King Basyle cleared his throat and addressed the Knight by name. “To make this painfully clear, as the Master of Kakariko is generally busy with his leaf juice, tell Orilieus he is expected to attend the Royal Banquet at the Autumn Festival both as a guest of honour and for a debriefing to this council. Let him know that I personally await him with open arms. He may bring whoever he pleases as his dining partners. You may leave,” he directed the two Soldiers to open the chamber doors and escort the messenger out of his sight. The passiveness dripped off his fingertips.  
  
One of the Council members stood to address the group. “What shall we do in the meantime? William Desesperacion’s reappearance has only brought this Council misery. With a possible warlock as a companion, it may be unwise to smoke him out with conventional Knights.”  
  
“You are on the right track, Graydon, if the ‘shadow creature’ is working together with the outlaw, it would be a death sentence to any Soldier. We all are aware of Desesperacion’s actions, his ignorance of authority,” the Advisor squeezed the bridge of his nose, looking down at the strangled remains of his quill and insulting himself with the notion he lost his poise. “But any actions now must wait; we need Orilieus’s take on the events, what his plans have become. You are all dismissed to your pleasure.”  
  
Slowly the suffocation of the room subsided, the last robed man exited through the chamber doors, the heavy oak set back into its frame. Basyle still sat at his post, sifting through parchments Klaus had recently filed involving Desesperacion and his recent murders.  
“Why must this Festival be sworn in on uneasy words? I was hoping that after five hundred years there would be an end to all the fuss. Yet it seems just in Hyrule’s historical luck that things have to go awry.”  
  
Klaus shared the same sentiments as the King, folding his hands in front of him. The bandages from the night before had been spoiled but he had put off treatment for the assembly. If Mable knew, she’d have his head. “We will just have to make the best of it. The first Ambassadors will be arriving this evening and the vassals have started decorating the City streets and the Castle for the festivities. Despite everything, I think it is in our best interest to try to enjoy ourselves. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel like,” he paused and shook his head. “It is as if Hyrule has forgotten how to live.”  
  
“If the Prophetic Ones were alive to see these days, I could not blame them for questioning their heroism,” Basyle smiled meekly, putting the documents away in his satchel. He was never a man for airs, just like Klaus. He only wore his crown for addressing the Capital and for Festivals; even his kingly attire was retired for council meetings. If the young knight had never gazed at the aging face of his King, he would not have known to who to bow.  
  
_Perhaps this is what makes the job worthwhile,_ Klaus thought, watching as his friend nodded informally to signify his exit of the Lords’s chamber. _A vassal knowing his King actually cares. A vassal being able to call his King a friend rather than just his superior._ Watching Basyle leave, the Advisor spoke the words he knew to be true in his heart. Maybe the walls could tell him what to do, or what to feel.  
  
“If the Prophetic Ones were alive to see these days, I could not blame them for turning tail and leaving us behind.”  
  
The walls had nothing to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I shall return!!


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two: Under God’s Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein

The abandoned shack off the hillside reminded them exactly of where they were. Everything from this peak to Lynna City was barren and left to rot. Labrynna was a crumbling place, its glorious past lost to the depths of the Sea of Storms and to the fields of its neighbours.  
  
Having crossed the Death Mountain range, Benjamin and his men began their descent into the misty foothills of Rolling Ridge. There were no Gorons here, this coming as no surprise as most had moved to more hospitable and easily navigable areas in Hyrule. The Protectorate featured most of the Gorons known in this region of the Kingdoms and was a force soon feared by the Hylians and their kin. Who could blame a fear of boulder eating behemoths? Recent failings of ties between the Gorons of the Protectorate and several royalties, especially that of Hyrule, caused witness of change in the social structure of their city. The Gorons of old, renowned as peaceful and docile, had been replaced by violent and deceptive descendants.  
  
It coldly gave a call back to the betrayal of the Sheikah much earlier in the Kingdom’s history. King Basyle was many a king of Hyrule who had since needed to tiptoe around these tribes for the sins of his great grandfather, and his before him. Benjamin could only wipe his brow in respect of their obscene luck. Gorons did not take very kindly to the Knight’s Guild Coat of Arms.  
  
“We still have quite a journey ahead of us,” the Captain struck his flag into the eroded mountainside, surveying his tired and sorry lot. “The Nuun Highlands are at least another eight hours ahead.”  
  
Groans became the return, some loud and angry, some tired and meek. Sir Jonathan said nothing at all, seated on the step of his carriage and looking quite ill. Benjamin hushed them and spoke through their same worn demeanour. “I would give us a few hours of rest, but the Ambassador is the Guest of Honour at the Festival. We can’t afford to waste any more time. King Basyle would have our heads if we bring Ashtar back any later than he already is.”  
  
Everyone seemed to cringe, not at the idea of punishment, but from the cruel reality of the fate of the first Convoy. The Captain’s words came out more like debilitating death threats than they were supportive of progress.  
  
“I think you should offer the men at least a bit longer for compensation,” surprisingly Jonathan spoke up, one of the first instances since the previous day’s departure. His voice was cracked and uneven; perhaps his nerves were getting the best of him. “But I think we should at least leave the Foothills, this fog will only get worse as the morning Sun tries to rise.”  
  
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, their eyes darting back to the silhouetted figure of Benjamin and his flag. Using what felt like his last bit of energy, the Captain withdrew his marker and pointed it toward a stumbling path a few metres away. “We go by foot first and clear the path for the carriages,” the leader went ahead and began picking among the soldiers to accompany him on the way down; very few were enthused.  
  
“I will sound the horn when we have reached the Base,” Benjamin designated six others to stay with Jonathan, who seemed to express horror at the idea of separation. There were likely children with more courage than this ‘esteemed’ member of the Royal Council. But he was still their superior, as inept as he was beginning to become. “James will lead the carriages down, three men on foot in front, and two in back. Zachary will lead the remaining caravan.”  
  
Jonathan raised a hand to protest, but its pallor was lost to the greater one of the suffocating mist. With a few head bobs and backsides eagerly returned to the ground, the Captain left with his group of men. Only a few seconds ticked by before even the blazing colours of Benjamin’s flag were lost from sight.  
  
James stifled a yawn, rubbing his elbow into the Official’s ribs and jesting about the weather. Disappointed, but not disheartened, he folded his arms and proceeded to hum and old ballad to himself. Despite his complete debauchery of tone, the song lifted the mood on the misty mountainside, soon claiming the attention of the other knights left to tend to the defenceless Councilman.  
  
If one had not a clue of their mission or of their inner dread, they too would have joined the merriment of the tiny silhouettes in the fog.  
  
***  
  
“This isn’t the cleverest of disguises,” Yazstromo said as he tucked his beard away into an old dusty shawl he and Daedus had found on their trip. Whoever had lost it was out of luck, it was about to be put into ridiculous use. “But we’ll do what we have to,” he motioned for his friend to take cover behind a nearby boulder as the supply carriage came closer to their position. They had happened upon the foothills leading into the Goron Protectorate in the past hour, but the Gorons were far from inviting them into the gates:  
  
  
“You can’t spare two old men the heavy spoils of travel this fine morning?” Yazstromo had asked, trying his best to look as weak and limp as possible. Towering above him was a rather fat Goron, scanning him with its big black eyes. For a moment it seemed like he was going to break and open the way into the city, but he folded his arms and shook his head.  
  
“Sorry, I cannot do that. We had strict orders from the Elder not to allow in any more Hylians,” he craned his neck back towards the closed stone doors. “The last couple we let in brought us a wily casualty. I never knew Sheikah could be so obnoxious and troublesome. If it were any other day and under any other order, I would let you in.”  
  
Daedus piped up next, trying the same tactic as looking lame and disoriented. “But, we have nowhere else to go in times like these,” a silent agreement was made as the subject of the sealing of Kakariko. Neither of them would be allowed in that City either.  
The Goron growled as he thought this over. Finally after what seemed an eternity, the Mountain Warrior answered with a stomp of his foot. “You will just have to go to the Capital; there will be plenty of beds there. The Autumn Festival is starting soon and all the Inns will be open for business.”  
  
“You can’t be serious!” Yazstromo gasped, almost falling over accidentally as he took a dramatic step backward. “You would send too ailing men a day’s walking rather than disobey an equally old Elder?” he knew right away he had offended the Gorons, or as close to offending as he could come when a strange belligerent cry echoed out of the fat one’s mouth. Later on he would learn that the Elder was merely thirty and to equate his title was blasphemy in the Protectorate.  
  
“Oops,” the Scholarly Man had said to Daedus and Lewis as soon as they settled down. They had been chased away from the gates, unsuccessful in bending the soft spot they had hoped remained in the Mountain Warriors. “It looks like we have to get in some other way. Surely neither of us could make it to the Capital before nightfall in our ragged shape.”  
  
“Agreed,” Lewis squawked, nearly falling from Daedus’s shoulder as he tested out his wings. “Surely we can’t be expected as the culprits from Kakariko. I don’t understand the hostility of these Gorons.”  
  
Yazstromo shook his head, scowling at the dusty trail worn with wagon treads. Walking up to one of the eroded boulders, the elder of the two sat and drew in the dirt the old map of Goron City. With one look at his shaggy blueprint and back up to the stone fortified gates, he swept away his drawing in a small fury. Nothing could stay the bloody same, could it?  
  
“Why not try to sneak in some other way?” Daedus replied, lifting up the dusty shawl from a few yards away. How it got way out here was beyond them. For a moment the newcomer to these lands felt robbed by his guide; if the Gorons actually ate people he would be extremely upset, not to mention undoubtedly more horrified at the sight of them.  
  
“I’m quite certain that big oaf will be able to tell it’s the same old man in that thing,” the Scholarly man huffed, grabbing the faded green outfit and balling it up.  
  
“Just put it on, I have an idea.”After stuffing his comrade into the womanly article, Daedus smiled at his handiwork. Explaining his unorthodox plan to Yazstromo, the older man smiled and told him that it ‘was worth a shot’.  
  
  
As the supply carriage neared the more femininely disguised Yazstromo, the Scholarly Man stepped out and pretended to collapse. Reining back the horses, they saw that this cart was being driven by two women, and Hylians all the better.  
  
“Oh, woe is me!” the fallen lady on the track cried out as pathetically as he could. He rocked back and forth howling loudly. “My hip!”  
The younger driver, short and blonde, jumped down from her seat and surveyed the sorry mess Yazstromo was at portraying a woman. But it seemed to fool her as easily as Daedus convinced his friend to dress up in the first place.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a strange accent, one neither of the men had heard so far in their travels. “Are you okay?” reaching down she brushed Yazstromo’s side. For a moment he forgot his ruse but quickly made up for lost time by shrieking uncomfortably.  
  
“Help me, young lady, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” Yazstromo coughed this out, his high pitched voice older than his previous times in Hyrule. “I was robbed on my way to visit my-,” he paused here, holding his head to begin faking another injury.  
  
As suddenly as the Scholar had fallen, Daedus rounded the boulder with a look of utter horror on his face. “Mother! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” the other woman cocked an eyebrow at the affairs taking place in front of her carriage. “I’ve been worried sick!”  
  
“You know this lady?” the young woman asked, looking between the two, wondering how such old people were closely related. This was surely the strangest thing she’d found on the supply run to date. The old times in Hyrule must have been as different as her grandmother had told her about as a child.  
  
“Yes, I was staying at the Protectorate and received a message my mother was coming to visit me,” Daedus lied through his teeth, not very good at this kind of deception. Perhaps he was the first true pure hearted person to cross the winds of Hyrule. Lewis plucked some of the hair from the back of his head to spur a few shed tears for his ailing relative on the ground. “What sort of creature did this to you, mother?” he fell to his knees and picked up Yazstromo with varied difficulty. Yazstromo huffed quietly as he watched Daedus struggle, his face beet red with determination.  
  
Setting the old woman upon his feet, Daedus wiped his brow and continued his faux speech. “I’m sorry to ask you young ladies to help us, but could you spare us a ride back into the Protectorate,” he placed a sympathetic hand on the blonde girl’s shoulder as well as another on his ‘mother’s. A look at the gates in the distance was met with mutual smiles between the driver and the younger old man. “We would walk but she is much too weak now.”  
  
“You can ride in back with the barrels,” again the sound coming from her mouth sounded queer and foreign. “Just don’t be rough; they’re filled with gun powder,” she motioned for her partner to help load Yazstromo and Daedus into the back. An exchange of words was made in a language the Scholar had never heard before, finally satisfying the idea that they were not exactly Hylian.  
  
The older, black haired woman lifted Yazstromo with little exertion, setting him in the back of the covered carriage. Daedus declined assistance, choosing instead to crawl up into the supply cart with as much elegance as a fat Dodongo. Soon the door was closed and latched behind them, drowning them in near blackness. Above them tiny holes let in dusty sunbeams that barely illuminated their opposite faces, both smiling wide with success.  
  
“I can hardly believe your stupid luck,” Lewis whispered from somewhere in the tangles of his friend’s hair. “A fool could have seen through that ruse. You call that acting?”  
  
Daedus chuckled and scooped up the mechanical bird, setting him on the rocking carriage floor. “I’ve always been blessed, my friend, you know this better than anyone,” he averted his gaze to Yazstromo, who was scratching feverishly in his pauper’s clothes.  
  
“Not sure about it yet, but I think this thing has fleas,” he dug his beard out of its hiding place and kneaded it anxiously. “You’ll be owing me _two_ fish if it does,” the glance was serious but the twinkle in Yazstromo’s eyes showed it as it truly was, harmless fun. He opened his mouth to speak again but Daedus shushed him as the carriage came to a slow halt.  
  
Outside the voice of the particularly fat Goron cut the silence. It was muffled as he read out the supplies list the women had provided him with. Patting the side of the cart as delicately as a Goron could, the two men were nearly crushed by barrels as the carriage rocked back and forth on rickety old wheels. Yazstromo shuffled farther back, hiding as best he could in his cramped clothing behind two Powder Kegs. He beckoned for Daedus, who after replacing Lewis in his ragged hair, claimed a seat beside his comrade.  
  
The latch was drawn and the door was opened wide. Peering inside, the fat Goron clapped his hands; apparently this was a very important shipment.  
  
“We can always count on you Kyznians,” he proclaimed loudly, extending a finger to shake with the blonde girl. “If only we Gorons were gifted with such wonderful sulphur mines for our gunpowder.”  
  
“Perhaps you should move to Kyzoon,” she replied, putting on a fake smile as best she could. It seemed like the Gorons had tarnished their reputation far beyond the borders of Hyrule. The Goron laughed and shook his head, mentioning something about delicious rocks and proceeded to slam the cart door’s shut.  
  
In a matter of minutes, the gears controlling the stone gate groaned to life and the carriage passed safely into the walls of the Protectorate. After a moment of rough uphill travel, the cart finally came to a stop and the faces of the women appeared at the entrance. Daedus stood up and walked back out into the midmorning Sun. Turning around to help the defenceless old lady from the high ledge, he felt his face flush as Yazstromo’s long beard slapped him in the face.  
  
“Your beard, you idiot!” Lewis hissed, but only a moment too late. The two Kyznian women looked at one another with shocked expressions, much to the mechanical bird’s chagrin. As quickly as they had devised their crotchety plan out in the field, the two men made a mad dash into the bustling streets, the old woman’s beard waving wildly in the stiff breeze.  
  
***  
  
The crack of dawn was not a welcoming sight. Perhaps that was why, at the faintest sliver of light on the horizon, Tap had decided to leave the humble hideaway. Tiveri and the others were still asleep, likely to be until she returned. After finally dozing off the previous night, she could still hear the others discussing something in the other room. Pairings of the group was the likely subject, she told herself. It would be in Naomi’s own twisted desire to place her under Kaz; no matter what Tiveri said, these were wounds that could not heal at simply a sight.  
  
Tap had told Kip to stay behind despite his general aversion of the others. Had she turned him away from the rest? Thinking back she could not really see reason to hold a feud with Naomi or any of the newcomers. What she wouldn’t give for another familiar face. Yazstromo perhaps, even the faceless Allanon would be a better sight than strangers. Tap wanted something to anchor her back into the Hyrule of old, but as it seemed, nothing was going to go her way.  
  
Sometimes she would sacrifice her sanity and comfort just to see Mervil’s glower from across the way. What was she saying? She shook her head silently in disagreement, rounding another corner in her adventure for new experiences in this shabby old city. The back streets were becoming more and more plastered in litter, and the fall leaves blowing across the empty alleys were lonely spectres of long gone Summer.  
  
Mervil was no longer a part of any of their lives; leaving them to clean up the mess of the Kingdom ensured each of them of that. How Naomi could have ever felt anymore sympathy for Death was beyond her. The Innocent understood what circumstances they were fighting for, but just once, Mervil could have shown compassion instead of vengeance. Yet, despite all her ideas of his shortcomings, Tap resigned herself to respecting his name and his memory, no matter how construed it happened to be.  
  
Even the Old Capital seemed to mock her idea of tranquility in this Hyrule. Although the majority of familiar buildings were left to crumble into dust, some still held strong as sad sagging shacks for the pauper class. The only landmark left was the Temple of Time, enclosed in its high walls and wrought iron gates. For what purpose it even stood to this day, she could not be certain. Perhaps it had not been used since the War, the scarring of prisoners within the walls deemed too sinful to ever disgrace with freeborn feet.  
  
The first songbirds began to chirp from high above. It would have been beautiful if it were not for the drab grey tint everything donned in this backwater excuse of a community. Tap had to still her thoughts; it felt like her animosity for even being in the same country as Kaz was tearing her judgment apart. Will’s likeness had never helped either. Never before had she been this critical, damn it all if she would have once preferred this Old City as a home.  
  
From the bell tower of the Temple of Time the first ravens began to screech, taking staggering flights on bruise tinted wings. Tap wished to be as free as the birds, able to watch over the lands from soaring heights. Being able to communicate with the animals to some degree was her only solace, if only she could find a creature large enough to carry her to the clouds. Maybe that was why Naomi was starting to bother her, a figure of what she desired herself to be, called a friend.  
  
No, that was silly, if anything Naomi was the only person keeping her sane in these times. Why were they even staying here? Why did she even need to be involved, weren’t Tiveri and Desesperacion the criminals? But Naomi and Jaros insisted on them staying together, speaking as if it were the times five hundred years prior. The only difference now: they didn’t have a walking Death as a leader, nor did they have a walking Death as a critic.  
  
Maybe Death found his human interloper at last. Not everyone could escape this finality, the undead, Galysses and Allanon, found this out the hard way. Now all she felt was sorrow, a kind different from a broken heart.  
  
Walking up the stone steps in front of her, seeming like a sudden manifest in her mindless journey, Tap stood upon the ramparts of the outer Capital walls. High above the full Moon shone brightly, trying to combat the overwhelming dawn light, doomed to fail. Tap sighed and took a deep breath of the morning air, misty and musty inside the cramped City.  
  
“Is this what the Goddesses really want of me?” she whispered quietly, resting her elbows on the wall, gazing out upon the rolling hills of Hyrule. It still held some beauty, yet only a bloodied face of past familiarity. “To sit in this dying Kingdom with brigands and suffer through these people?”  
  
Standing in silence, she let forth a stream of long held tears. Five hundred years of living seemed more a curse than a blessing. Tap took her cap off and turned it upside down. Reaching in, she removed an old and withered pictograph photo. In it she stood off to the side in a small group of friends. Naomi and Yazstromo were sheepishly smiling to one side of her, on the other stood more recent acquaintances. Darren stood tall in his blue robes, a crossbow at his feet, and to his other side was Samir, the only other man her age she had felt any connection with.  
  
At that moment the Innocent questioned if she had really done the right thing in leaving. If only Xanath were here... he would have known the answer.  
  
A great fluttering of feathers above startled her from her thoughts. Before Tap had realized it, a large raven had plucked the old pictograph from her trembling hands and took flight down the rampart.  
  
“Hey! Get back here!” she stumbled forward yelling at the large crow, nearly dropping her hat in the process. It would have seemed silly from the streets below, watching a girl take off in a dead sprint after one of the many ravens calling the Capital home while trying to slip on a cap. Their black demeanour only added to the stench of the crumbling Kingdom. “Stop, give me my stuff back!”  
  
After nearly running across the entire embankment, Tap tripped on an upturned cobblestone and landed face first into the brick path. A quick curse slipped through her lips as she pulled herself up off the ground. Looking ahead she saw to her horror the bird flying far past the end of the City Wall. Defeated, the Innocent slumped against the side of the parapet and proceeded to sob quietly to herself. Now another memory was taken from her.  
  
Tap sat there in the chilled breeze for what felt like an eternity, feeling sorry for herself even when she knew she should not.  
[I do not understand.]  
  
A strange voice came from somewhere nearby, making Tap jump with surprise having not expected anyone to be awake by this time besides guards on duty. But this did not sound like any guard she had met before. She peered up above her only to recoil back in shock a second time. A raven was surveying her with its head tilted quizzically and beak slightly open.  
  
Shakily standing up and turning to face the bird, she dusted herself off and spoke quietly. “Did you say something?”  
  
_[I do not understand.]_ It said again, its eyes fluttering as its head kept in sync with her movements. _[Why is this important?]_ The raven picked up the stolen pictograph being clutched in its black claws and held it out towards the baffled Tap. The Innocent greedily took it back with a vehement expression crossing her face.  
  
“I didn’t know ravens could talk so well,” she said as she returned the photo back to the inner seam of her cap. It was true that she was ignorant of this fact, perhaps she had been missing out all this time by avoiding the birds altogether.  
  
_[Why is this important?]_ It squawked again, choosing to preen its feathers blindly, keeping its eyes focussed on the woman in front of him. The Moon was setting far off behind this scene, its dying light shining brilliantly white off of the bird’s outstretched wing. _[I do not understand.]_  
  
“It is a picture of me and my friends,” Tap replied, still confused at the strange way the animal was speaking to her. “Why did you give me this back?” she never knew a raven to be a polite being. But neither were humans, were they?  
  
_[If they are your friends, where are they now? Why are you all alone?]_  
  
“I’m not alone, you dumb bird,” the Innocent hissed, trying to seem angrier with it than she was. “Why can’t you answer _my_ questions?”  
  
_[Then why were you crying? I do not understand.]_  
  
Tap rolled her eyes, turning around to leave. She wasn’t ready to deal with this sort of thing at this time in the morning. But something nagged at her to continue the conversation, the intrigue proved too much to bear. Spinning around she saw the raven had left. “Well that was a little rude,” she said quietly.  
  
_[Where are you going?]_ Tap nearly fell backwards as the raven spoke loudly from her left flank. As loudly as she could perceive it; she couldn’t recall if she had ever explicitly told the others her ability to communicate with animals in this fashion. _[If you are so worried about your things, don’t you think you should stop leaving them around unattended?]_ She gasped as she saw her bow and arrows lying on the ground in front of the crow, a murder of his kind standing around them. None of them spoke to her, choosing to caw and coo quietly among one another. Her new raven friend was the largest of the bunch.  
  
“You’re the same bird from Kakariko City, aren’t you?” she was genuinely delighted; this may not have been her ideal familiar face, but it was better than nothing.  
  
_[Many people often tell me that we have met before. Your name is Tap, you are well known, am I correct?]_  
  
“How did you know? And I wouldn’t call it ‘well known’ anymore,” completely giving away her surprise, Tap proceeded to approach the raven on the ledge. “I haven’t been in Hyrule for ages.”  
  
_[There are many things that I know. Ravens are the wanderings of lost human souls, a legend I’m sure you have heard before. I have known of you in both lives, the Prophetic Ones are still spoken of in the smaller villages of this Kingdom where merriment still thrives. I am glad to have spoken with you at last.]_  
  
“What is your name then, Mr. Raven?” for a moment she felt back to her old self again.  
  
_[I go by the name of Aracient.]_ He replied, looking down at her belongings and up at her again, turning his head on its side. _[I asked my brothers to bring you your things for a reason, young lady.]_  
  
Tap flushed and hurriedly relinquished her things from the birds at her feet, who in the sudden motion took timid flight. “Well then, Aracient,” she felt like she was pronouncing it wrong but kept vigilant in her bizarre morning journey. “You led me here for a reason, didn’t you?” they both knew she was speaking about how he had led her into the alley covered in Autumn Festival adverts.  
  
_[Yes, I did.]_ To her astonishment, Aracient bent down and withdrew a rolled up paper from a crack in the wall. Spreading it out as best as he could with his sharp claws, she saw it was yet another copy of the Festival. _[Perhaps if people were more inclined to us, trouble would go less unnoticed.]_ He sounded more serious now, talking coherently as if he were about to administer a grand speech.  
  
“Well, I will listen to you,” Tap said, smiling to herself as the raven looked back up to her. “I’m sure all the others would like to know what you have to say.”  
  
_[I would hope so.]_  
  
“Then why don’t you come with me to meet them?” she stretched out her arm to Aracient who seemed to shake his head in disagreement.  
  
_[Only if you promise me one thing.]_ He said matter-of-factly. Tap furrowed her brow for a moment, choosing to nod at the proposal. _[I do not want you to cry over what is past. Your friends live and you are far from alone. Save your tears. It is what I wish someone could have told me.]_  
  
The Innocent smiled meekly, wiping away the last of her tears. “It’s a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Yes, it is finally done. From this point on I will be writing small chapters in between certain points. I will let you know when this will occur and I PROMISE they will be prompt and up as quickly as possible.
> 
> Love, ZE


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: Cenotaph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes: What's up peeps? Shocked to see me so soon? This like the EDN adversary addition of FF 2...or at least, its close enough to it that you could call it that. ZE let me write to...explain certain things between certain characters. Don't worry, LiB, we didn't mess up your part. This was already in the works soon after ZE's part was posted and so on. Anyways, thank you ZE for editing this part! And yes, this is some 6600 words. Goodness. >_<

A frozen wind nipped at his pointed ears, carrying along with it the smell of fresh blood. His stomach turned, it was _her_ blood; who else could it be? But, snowshoes strapped to his legs were not made for running. No, Kaz only hoped he could reach her before they could do any more to her. If he couldn’t…no, no, he could not let his thoughts go that way.  
  
He was the bloody General of Kyzoon. He did not fail his people, he would not fail her. He would save her from them.  
  
The wind blew harder, slamming snow against his face. It felt like ice, sharp and fierce. He lifted his arm to shield his face but kept up his pace as best he could, his lungs burning as he reached the top of the hill. Kaz smelled fire and burning flesh and blood, it was then that he spotted them. Those who had captured her were large, dark-furred, but elegant creatures with slender, arched backs. Each of them finishing their menacing appearance with one bright red eye, and a veil covered the lower half of their faces.  
  
But they were warmer than he and the girl who knelt on the ground before them. She wore only the remnant of a once white dress: ragged, frayed, and bloodied. The child knelt there, the symbol of his inattentiveness and failings. If only he had put up more watches or told them the children could not play when the scouts had said these creatures were about. If only he hadn't been distracted with that letter from home or that longing to see Vivi when this long winter ended. If only...but "if onlies" could never undo mistakes, they could only prevent you from making them worse.  
  
What had he been thinking? That his presence would keep them away? He was not Mervil, and he did not know if even a living Death could destroy these wretches. Even after hundreds of years of this wintry war he had made no progress. They always came, and they always killed. Ruthlessly. Yes, they staged a defense; yes, they were able to keep the creatures at bay to some degree, but it was never enough. People still died, animals still killed, and villages still destroyed. These creatures were what the old line of kings had once kept at bay.  
  
_If we had known the price then, would we have killed that tyrant?_ The answer, he knew, was still 'yes'. It had been why the old man had begged him to stay, he had not known, at that time, what he was getting into. _...and I would've anyways. Even had he told me._ The Kyznians had become his people, and she, one of their daughters, was still among them. He had told her mother, Irene-a Hylian-that he would save her child. He carefully crept forward, keeping out of the firelight and the gaze of their giant eyes, hiding behind a nearby tree. He’d have to attack them, quick, quite and fiercely, before they could stop him. If they gazed into his eyes for long, they would stop him and take his head or sing him to sleep with their songs and kill him with their spears. They could break his body, twist it like a stick, and...  
  
Yes, those in the army were correct, this was little better than suicide, but they knew they would lose the girl if they sent more than a man. The beasts saw it as an affront to their honor, they had taken the child as a form of challenge, yet Kaz did not know who he might fight. If he won, they would let them leave safely. Other winters, others would have gone to confront the beast. Most died. Yet, few men these days had gone through such conditions as these to kill these creatures...even on a normal run. All those who had were either too old to fight or too dead; all except the General. The last winter like this one was nearly seventy years hence.  
  
Kaz readied his sword, unfastened his double shot musket, and focused on the beast closest to him. It was a bigger one; its face was uncovered. The fur around its muzzle had gone gray and two ivory teeth the size of a man’s hand stuck out from its upper jaw. It stared at the girl, its back turned away from the man hiding behind the tree's wide truck.  
  
Kaz leaped from out behind the tree onto its back, hitting its head with the butt of his gun. The creature roared, throwing him to the ground beside the girl.  
  
She looked up and smiled. How could the she smile after all she had suffered?  
  
“General!” cried the girl, embracing him.  
  
"Not now," he said, voice soft.  
  
Quickly, Kaz pulled her arms back, falling into a defensive crouch in front of her. Reaching for the knife in his boot, he threw it at the monster's red eye. The knife struck its cheek. It screeched, tossing its head back and snapping its jaw. The other creatures stood by, watching. Patient, cold, like strange judges lurking in the night watching an ancient ritual unfold.  
  
It was quick. Kaz rolled to the side, barely avoiding a punch. It picked up one of the spears by the fire, twirling it in the air then pointing at his sword with its other hand. The other creatures stared. The girl looked up at him with dark eyes filled with pain, but managed a smile. Again.  
  
The monster before him stared him down, challenge in its red-eyed gaze. Dread and realization, as cold as a harsh winter, filled his gut. They had known he would come. They had taken this girl to force him challenge their leader. He withdrew his sword and charged at on the patted down snow. It waited. Spear held in a forward stance, it side-stepped gracefully, his sword barely missing its right leg.  
  
Kaz slipped across the patted snow and ice, the fire raging behind him. His sword reflecting the flames. After a series of furious exchanging, a smile cut his face like a knife. “You’re slower and older than what I recall. Is this what you want?”  
  
His adversary returned his taunt with a sharp, piercing growl, its great red eye shimmering in the firelight. The other creatures laughed; a sound that chilled his bones, but he kept standing. They would not overcome him. He gently squeezed the girl’s hand then motioned for her to stand back. He focused on the beast before him and gave it a curt nod, pointing at the gun. He discarded the musket. It wanted a fair fight.  
  
The fight recommenced. He stepped out of the way of its great spear. Swinging his blade upwards, hesitant to leave open a chance for attack, he managed to deliver a nasty flesh wound to the lumbering beast’s left arm. A black liquid flowed out, becoming steam before it touched the ground.  
  
It roared, and Kaz found himself on the defense. The being was getting quicker now, the smell of its blood invigorating it into action. It stood taller and attacked with teeth, eye, and spear, never leaving Kaz another opportunity to land more than a pitiful swipe. He had more scrapes and bruises than his foe, and damn, he could not feel his toes or finger anymore. _Have to find a way to finish it soon or—_  
  
The creature tripped him with its spear and he fell onto his hands and knees in the snow, unable to move. Towering above him, the beast pointed its spear at his chest. It then spoke, the words sounding rough on such an alien tongue: “You die, old fool, General of Kyzoon, I—“  
  
_Bang!_  
  
It fell over, dead. The other creatures screamed in pain, in rage. Kaz covered his ears. A small hand touched his arm. In the chilled air she stood, a small silhouette outlined by orange flame. Wasn’t she old enough to understand what she had done?  
  
The girl shook, holding the musket in cold, unsteady hands. “Um, Mr. General," she whispered, "I think we should go. Quickly.”  
  
He almost laughed, a mere child giving him commands. He was to weak to waste energy on that, however, instead, he pulled himself to his feet, leaning on his sword then sheathing the weapon. Kaz tossed his cloak over the girl’s shoulders, picking her up, keeping his eyes on the beasts.  
  
They watched him in silence, they're faces alien yet somehow solemn. One looked up and gave him a nod, then turned and walked away, the others following, leaving their spears behind. They weren't taking revenge? Why? What had they done?  
  
Again, Kaz found, he did not understand them.  
  
Maybe he had lost his honor among them. He shook his head and fumbled his way out of the camp as quickly as his wounds, exhaustion, and the weight of the girl would allow. Why was she so heavy? He shifted her weight to his right arm, leaning on his sword as they made their way through this storm. Snow now fell from the dark clouds and wind blew it harshly around them, almost causing him to fall several times along the way and lose himself and the girl in some snow drift in these accursed Underwoods. If he did so, they would both die. No, he'd promise someone...whoever it was...that he wouldn't let it happen. Who had that been?  
  
Kaz was too exhausted to recall.  
  
But he would keep his word, even if he ended up a dead man. As long as she still breathed, no, as long as they still breathed, they could make it. Just one step after another, just concentrate on that. How long had it been? Minutes, hours, days? He wasn’t sure, but the wind kept blowing and the snow fell hard and the chilled wind bit into his skin. There was no sign of Sun or Moon. No stars. Only those strange, sparkles of fae dust that marked the time as early day. At long last, Kaz saw something small shimmering in the blizzard, and heard...hooves; were those hooves? What kind of fool would drive a horse out in this accursed weather? No, that was the sound of booted feet and heavy armor. Someone...  
  
“Gen-General, the officers said not to come…but…I knew…I knew…I had to,” the man said, holding up his lantern. “Is that the kid, sir?”  
  
He nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could speak.  
  
“I’ll take her,” the soldier said. He did not reply, simply passing her over to the younger man. “Damn, it’s so cold my ass is bout to freeze off. Ah, sir…I…we…should we get going, right?”  
  
  
“Yes, er,” his voice came out scratchy and worn; old.  
  
Perhaps that was why the monsters had left. They saw it as a war between two, old foolish men.  
  
“Corporal Daithor, sir,” he said. “Hoping to—“  
  
“Corporal, is this the time?"  
  
"No sir."  
  
"Let's go then."  
  
The wind howled and he found himself leaning on the young man more than he would have cared to admit. But, despite Daithor’s earlier talkativeness, the corporal did not complain. The soldier did not speak a word. From what he could see of the young man’s face, he could only read a quiet and stoic determination; the kind that might very well make a good officer later in life, but certainly not yet. It wasn’t time to think of that. All these asides, was he just looking for something to think about, to focus on something other than the blinding snow?  
  
They marched on. The wind howled all around them, and the snow was falling so quickly that he was glad the young man had brought a lamp, though it made little difference in this whiteout. He wasn’t sure if they were heading in the right direction, hell, he could only hope they weren’t heading back towards those nightmarish beasts. He heard a howl. A shiver sprinted up his spine; he prayed that was only a gust of wind and a wolf following them, stalking them in the daylight. Damn, how he hated being nearly blinded by this blizzard.  
  
“General, we-,” the man stopped, “don’t fall asleep. See, the snow is lightening up and well, there are fires in the distance. They mean bread, water, and...women... Ah...sir?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Daithor said nothing, but he could see the young man blushing profoundly. He nodded for the young soldier to continue, and they did. Crossing over the icy bridge and managed to only slip once. The girl had screeched at that, but, that served to relieve him, knowing she was yet alive and hail in the young corporal's arms.  
  
Kaz lost track of time again. Uncertain how long it had been from the time that the corporal had spoken last or if there was any time in these Underwoods at all. By Nayru, for all he knew, he’d been here for a hundred years, transversing these Underwoods with this young soldier and little girl in this wintry hell for lifetimes of normal men. Finally, the snowfall lightened and the fires of watchmen and their camp came into view. He could see _life_ again, smell it. Kaz touched the head of the child, but she did not reply. She must've fallen asleep.  
  
A woman covered by a furred cloak over a double-breasted uniform and a pair breeches strutted up to them, lantern in hand. Three marks marked her as a captain. She dropped the lamp in the snow and asked the soldier to hand her the girl.  
  
Daithor shook his head. “She’s dead, ma’am.”  
  
“She can't be, he…” She looked up into Daithor's brown eyes, then turned her fierce gaze on Kaz. "You promised me."  
  
Dead? He stared at her, blankly, weakness and exhaustion clouding his mind. What in blazes were they talking about?  
  
"Whom?" that word barely escaped his tongue. A word he would later wish he had not spoken at all, but his mind was addled. "Irene?"  
  
Instead of providing an answer, she slammed her lantern into the side of his head.  
  
***  
  
Something hit the wall above William’s head. Well, he was glad he had decided it was time to get up anyways, even if the damned nobleman he had the luck of sharing a room with had the most unorthodox ways of getting him up in the morning. The first time it had been a horse licking his face due to a sugar cube Kaz had placed right on his nose. Will could still recall the disgusting sensation of sticky, stinky, surgery horse slobber covering his face. Slowly, the fugitive opened his eyes.  
  
A knife, the noble had thrown a bloody knife at him! It was stuck in the wall, still wiggling slightly from the impact. William cursed, why was the old man trying to kill him _this time?_  
  
He sat up, fastened his boots, and finally, looked over at Kaz. His double still slept, though fitfully, his hair sticking to his forehead and strange words—perhaps gibberish—escaping his lips. Kaz shivered too, as though from fever.  
  
Will watched with a sense of eerie satisfaction; the man wasn’t everything he or the legend had made him out to be, no, the person before him was only a mere mockery of the Redeemed. Kaz was weakened by nightmares just like him. No, Will shook his head, this was worse than what he had gone through, he had never _thrown_ a knife at someone in his sleep.  
  
The fugitive heard the older man draw in a sharp, quick breath. Kaz sat up, his blankets covering the lower half of his body, his back bent forwards and his head in his hands. Blood dripped from his lips. His hazel eyes gazed at him blindly, unseeing, and filled with despair.  
  
“What the hell?” Will asked, keeping his voice low.  
  
Kaz blinked, looking around, still in a daze. “Where am I? Daithor, where did you put the girl?”  
  
“Who?"  
  
"By Din's fiery Hell...,” Kaz said. Will continued to stare blankly at the old man. “What did you do? No, I brought her back, she was safe, she was fine...Don’t you remember?”  
  
“Stop it.” William said, shaking him firmly. Ancient, hazel eyes stared back at Will in silence, making his stomach tighten. “You're...you're down right insane, aren't you?”  
  
Silence fell for a few moments. Moments, that to Will, felt like an eternity, then, the old man closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He stared out the single window in this small, makeshift bedroom. “You shouldn’t try to fix the impossible, William.”  
  
Will almost breathed out in relief, but stopped. This was nearly as bizarre as before. “What?”  
  
“Heh.” Kaz picked up his green coat off the top of the lone chair in this room. It only had three legs, of course, the fourth had been snapped off at its base. “I suppose you're right, I am mad. Some five-hundred years of constant fighting will do that to a fellow. By Din, hundreds of years of leading men and women barely older than children will too. Sanity isn't something you should expect from me, kid."  
  
Kaz shot him a grin. Will suddenly felt like a foolish boy again. What had he thought he could do? Chase away Kaz's demons when hd couldn't fight his own? But, when he looked into Kaz’s eyes he did not see the same intensity he had moments ago. No, he saw only an old man who had seen too much war, too much death. Anyone would lose a few of their marbles under such circumstances, many would probably completely lose their minds. Kaz was lucky he wasn't some screaming lunatic hidden away in some monetary somewhere.  
  
“I...won't." He said, looking down at his hands, "Alright, I'm sorry."  
  
Kaz blinked, his coat only half-way on. "For what?"  
  
"It..." he shook his head, watching the older man in silence as he collected his thoughts. By the time he had, Kaz had stood, frowning down at him. Perhaps it wasn't time to ask yet. "Are you leaving?"  
  
“Apparently,” Kaz replied and placed his sword in its sheath. Its hilt was bland, only having a black hilt and a green pommel stone for ornamentation, but the long sword’s blade glistened brightly in contrast. He still did not know from what metal it was wrought.  
  
“In that dream…or memory, there was a girl kidnapped from camp by the Xinari, a race of creations that don't live Hyrule. I went, tried to save her, it was a fool's mission from the start, and it didn’t work. She died before we made it back to camp. Taken by the cold, of all things. I…was told by her mother, Irene, years later that when I returned here I should visit the shrine originally dedicated to me, the caretakers line runs through her family." He gave him a faint smile. "I'd forgotten to do so."  
  
William nodded. "You're not used to forgetting, are you?"  
  
The old man sighed, shaking his head. In silence, he left, closing the door behind him lightly. William nearly followed, but stopped. He would let Kaz have his peace. After a night like that, he would want it too.  
  
***  
  
“We won’t need to find them right away.” Tap stated, looking at her feathered friend. “It’s hardly sunup.”  
  
The bird nodded, if she dare call it a nod. He spoke little and, from what she had seen, cawed to his brothers even less. His eyes though were sharp and wise, and he listened to everything she told him; even if his replies were few and far between. Except for the annoying ones. _[Why? Is there a point?]_  
  
“I’m hungry.” She put it simply. “And there are plenty of inns, taverns, and that kind of thing that serve breakfast, even if they’re not very good. When did you say you lived again?”  
  
He did not answer, at least, not in the way she wanted. Tiveri was right, everyone in Hyrule was a master at turning the conversation in whatever way they wanted. Even the dead. _[Did you not say you wished me to meet your friends?]_  
  
Tap sighed, but continued to stroll down the streets of Old Hyrule Castle Town. The smells of food reached her; eggs, freshly baked bread, sausages, melons and other fruits, even ham. Who would want ham in the morning? Perhaps Kaz? No, she would not think of the man in such a cheery way, she turned back to focusing on the town around her.  
  
Few children were up this earlier, only the beggars, and not even those approached her with the strange raven that refused to leave her side. While others—women doing laundry, men going to work, criminals trying to look less suspicious as the sun rose, and others that she wasn’t sure why they were about—walked the streets. Some gave her a glance, others pretended that the odd girl dressed in red was only an illusion out of myth. Tap wondered, for a moment, if any would think she, a girl dressed in common clothes that had seen better days was the same as the Innocent they had heard about in the tales told to them at the fireside or sung by the bards on the night of the Autumn Festival. Did the bards even sing the Epic of the Chosen these days?  
  
Then what did the bard sing?  
  
She laughed bitterly and saw that she stood in a courtyard. Naked rose brushes stood to the side, slightly overgrown on the fences that encircled the place. Scattered and bare blossoming trees stood in front of them. In the centre of the gardens was an unkempt fountain and in the middle stood a marvel statue of a woman who wore a dress made of emerald; the goddess Farore. In her hair she wore flowers wrote from the same stone as her dress and from the hands lifted above her head the fountain’s water flowed, falling into the basin at her bare feet. A sanctuary made of marble stood in the back, its two tall stained glass windows glistening in the dawn’s early light. Tap shook her head in dismay. Why had her gods led her to this place? She then hid behind one of the trees.  
  
_[What is this place?]_ Aracient stood on a nearby bush, somehow missing the thorns and plucked out a leaf with his black beak.  
  
“It’s…” Tap looked at the bird sadly. “We originally had it built in the memory of a ‘friend’ of ours. I don’t know what it’s for now. Knowing the Hylians, it’s probably nothing good.”  
  
_[In memory of who?]_  
  
Tap glared at the raven. Why did he like to ignore every other word that she said? Why! He was lucky she had cared for him—what was she thinking? The Innocent took a deep breath and tried to smile at the bird instead, “Kaz. I’m guessing from what little you’ve told me that you’d remember that Yaz wrote the Epic of the Chosen, the legend that tells our tale. At the end he noted that Kaz died in a terrible accident a little after we—I mean, Mervil—beat Arivis. This was later built in honor of him…because…I missed him. He was a good friend. Now, I don’t know what they use it for.”  
  
[So, he is not alive…but why are you?] The raven asked, plucking out a few feathers and then studying the statue of Farore. She wondered where the bird’s thoughts lead, but did not ask, instead choosing to answer his question.  
  
“I’m not completely certain.” Tap said, “Naomi—you know, the Rito woman from the legend—told me that the time spell around the great desert Tower we visited had malfunctioned. Apparently the last son of the King at the time had used powerful magic to lock away troops under Arivis’ control. It had worked, but hadn't stood up to time when we first arrived,” she was trying to remember everything Naomi had told her and the others the fateful day they arrived at the Bronze Construct. It wasn’t going very well.  
  
“We were attacked and the spell was broken. That was when we found out that even then, the prince’s last actions were not that successful. Time had been going on very slowly in that Tower and all his fellow knights, Arivis’s forces, and he had long since rotted away,” it was all a depressing story, but that’s what ravens enjoyed, wasn’t it? “During the fight with Arivis the spell ceased and I guess it inverted back on itself or something with all of us inside. Our ages got stuck, Naomi said. I guess it wasn’t completely effective or we would’ve been just as stuck as that poor man trapped in there. It’s not a blessing from the goddesses; it was just bad luck.”  
  
_[A curse…]_ The reply from her winged-friend seemed little more than a whisper. _[I am truly sorry you must suffer so.]_  
  
“Thank you.” Tap said and smiled, the fact was she would have hugged the raven, but he was too regal, standing there, staring into the distance at the man in white and green priestly robes that now stood before the fountain. Another man wearing a green coat and dark trousers walked towards the priest.  
  
The Innocent almost bolted, but stopped herself mid step. What would Aracient think of her if she ran from all her problems? She had once heard that ravens hated cowards and she liked the strange bird too much to find out the truth of those old folktales.  
  
_[Who is that?]_ The raven pointed at Kaz with its beak. _[Is he one of your friends?]_  
  
“No.” Tap answered bluntly. “I’m going to go closer. Could you act more like a normal raven?”  
  
Aracient gave her an amused glance; at least, Tap thought it was amused. She had not quite gotten used to the bird’s emotions. Then, in a flurry of midnight black feathers the raven took off, soaring above her and cawing as she crept towards the priest and the Redeemed. Then a feather fluttered down and landed perfectly in the priest hands. The man blinked, taking a moment to examine it. The cleric looked up at the sky and grimaced as Aracient flew in a circle above. A murder soon joined him.  
  
“That is…a rather interesting sight.” The priest said. “Now, master Kazar, why have you come here? I had heard there was a Kyznian noble living in Kakariko, but I would not expect you to come here of all places. There are many sanctuaries honoring the Chosen Ones in better parts of the city, milord, and as you can tell…this place has seen its better days.”  
  
“You could say…,” Kaz sighed. “That my grandmother’s family came from Hyrule. She had a deep respect for the Prophetic Ones.”  
  
“That does not explain why you came here, young man.”  
  
Kaz stiffened at that, but the grayed haired, wrinkled-faced man appeared years his senior. “Well, you see, she was from these parts. Not all noble lines of Kyzoon were so originally. She had grown up the daughter of an innkeeper, but she had a thirst for adventure and left these lands, Your Honor. My grandmother found her way to my homeland and joined the military, rising in rank until she was given a title by the King and the General. When she was a child she often came here with her mother to remember the Chosen of Hyrule.”  
  
“I see…was her name Irene?”  
  
Kaz nodded and Tap gasped in silence. Who had this woman been? “Yes, that was her name. You knew her?”  
  
“That was my sister.” The priest said. “But…you do not look like her.”  
  
“No, I take more after my father.” He answered. “Now, do you understand my interests—”  
  
The ravens cawed.  
  
“—what’s with those damned birds?”  
  
A raven dove down, landing behind the priest on the ledge of the fountain. The cleric turned around to look at it. The elderly man shook his head, no doubt wondering why such a bird was intruding on this sanctuary. It stared past the old priest and locked eyes with Kaz.  
  
_[Is he your friend?]_  
  
Tap shook her head. “I…don’t know…”  
  
_[Why is that?]_  
  
“Stop that!” She said, not realizing she had spoken so loud until both the priest and Kaz turned around. The priest gave her a look filled with shock then curiosity, while the Redeemed’s face held an expression of slight dismay.  
  
“This is…extremely odd…” The priest smoothed his robes and looked upon her with kind eyes. “Who, may I ask, are you?”  
  
Tap exchanged a glance with Kaz. His face was as stone. Then, she looked at Aracient; the raven was now playing with one of the shining jewels in the statue’s hair. The Innocent smiled a not very innocent smile. “Me? Sir, well, I’m the Innocent. Tap. The one and only! That bird behind you is my new friend Aracient. And, finally, this man you see lying to you, well, I know for a fact he’s not from Kyzoon, but Hyrule, at least, initially. He’s Kaz, the Redeemed. Isn’t that remarkable?” She finally took a breath.  
  
Silence filled the courtyard and the Innocent called to the raven, “Come here, Aracient.” The bird came, landing on the ground beside her. “Only the Innocent has power over animals. Well, this kind of power, I mean.”  
  
The priest nodded. He believed the legend; Tap had hoped that he was old enough to not have thrown them away as mere symbolism. She gave him a smile and turned to Kaz. The man’s face held no emotion, but in his eyes, she could see anger under the calm exterior he showed the priest.  
  
“Excuse us.” Kaz said, quickly, motioning for her to follow. “We’ve things to do. Right Tap?”  
  
“Ah…errr…yes.”  
  
The Innocent heard the priest sigh as they left the courtyard and followed her former friend in silence. Not even Aracient spoke a word as they traversed the streets of the Old Castle Town, with the warm midmorning sun hidden behind wispy clouds. More people walked the streets now and callers ran through the crowds selling their wares. She bought a small loaf of bread and some cheese from one, ate most, but gave a portion to Aracient. The bird ate it gleefully. Soon, Kaz led them to the door of one of the nicer inns in Old Hyrule Castle Town. His eyes shifted to the beautiful black raven on the sign. Wait, had she just thought of Aracient as beautiful? Tap wondered what the bird would think of that.  
  
“Good…errr…bird. Stay there.” Kaz said but Aracient fluttered down, looking up at her former friend with challenge. He sighed. “I don’t think he likes me.”  
  
“I can’t blame him” Tap folded her arms. “But, Aracient could you please go back up there? People are staring.”  
  
This time, the bird did as asked; Kaz led her into the inn, opening the door and requested a private booth, showing a large green rupee. The innkeeper smiled but her multiple chins weighed it down, making it appear more half-hearted than she had intended. She called for one of her serving girls to lead them into the next room where the maid sat them at a table. Even this room, though, looked fuller than Tap would have liked. She’d rather not be seen, especially in a place like this, even though she was very hungry.  
  
Tap’s stomach complained profoundly, but the girl’s eyes were on Kaz. “What…what would you like, sir? Some eggs, toast, maybe—“  
  
“Hey!” Tap called and the girl glared and frowned at her. “I’m hungry too. He doesn’t need food; he’s a bit overfed already.”  
  
“That’s not nice calling your brother fat.”  
  
“He’s not my brother,” Tap explained and gave Kaz a fake smile, but he seemed distracted by something. Was he even listening? “And I didn’t say he was fat. He’s not. Just a little chubby. But, could you get me some eggs and toast and…”  
  
The girl was distracted again, this time she tapped Kaz’s shoulder. “What do you want, sir?”  
  
“You should serve her first.”  
  
“Oh, fine. What do you want, miss?” The maid’s voice held a touch of anger. Tap rolled her eyes, didn’t she know the man was five hundred years her senior? No, of course not, and this serving girl wouldn’t simply believe like that priest had.  
  
“Eggs, toast with jam, and…um…leaf juice.” Tap said, then started to trace the flowery embroidery on her linen napkin, stopped, and started to tap the table. The maid glared at her but turned on her toes and stomped away.  
  
“She…I think she likes you or something.” Tap said, turning back to her companion. She hated the idea of having to eat breakfast with the man, but it was better than eating it with Arivis or some other villain at least.  
  
“I suppose.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “She isn’t the kind of woman I find attractive, however. A bit too blond.”  
  
Tap continued to tap and met his eyes with a sharp glance. “Is that why you brought me here? To talk about that?”  
  
“No.” He answered. “I just thought you might be a little hungry. You weren’t there when I woke up, so…I guess I was right.”  
  
“I…” She stopped herself, her stomach growling again. She grimaced. “Oh, I just thought you would want to talk about what happened on that night. You know, when you...when we...well, yeah, when you left Hyrule.”  
  
“It was five hundred years ago.” He said quietly. “By anyone’s count, that’s a bloody long time ago.”  
  
Tap nodded, “So, that’s why…”  
  
He frowned, but she stopped herself, the maid was back.  
  
The serving girl carried a platter with one plate of steaming hot food, a bowl of something, two cups, and a single pot of leaf juice. She placed whatever was in the bowl and other cup in front of Kaz, gave Tap her food, and poured Tap’s leaf juice. The Innocent frowned when she tasted the egg.  
  
“What’s wrong with it?”  
  
“I…like them more burnt. Crispier eggs are a lot better than these!” She explained, stirring the perfect yellow yolk with her spoon. The Innocent then lifted her spoon causing the yolk to stretch, come apart and drip onto her eggs below. “The yolks are better that way too.”  
  
He smirked. “You never could cook.”  
  
The Innocent glared. “Like you, Mr. Mighty Warrior-like person, could either. I bet you have someone cook your meals for you every day and never bother to do it yourself. They’d taste too nasty for your “refined” tastes.”  
  
He took a mouthful of whatever was in the bowl and ate it. It looked like some kind of pale yellow, grainy mush. “I wouldn’t call this refined. In Hyrule, they think this is a Kyznian specialty, but really, it’s nothing more than hot creamed corn and brown sugar. The army of Kyzoon ate it for breakfast when they were on campaign.”  
  
The Innocent tilted her head. “Um, what’s Kyzoon?”  
  
He laughed. “How in hell…no, I don’t want to know how, but you don’t know?”  
  
She shook her head and nibbled on her toast. At least this was nice and blackened but not too charred.  
  
“I spent centuries there.” He said, scratching the new growth on his chin. The Innocent guessed he hadn’t left Kakariko with a razor. “It’s a land across the sea and the port of Hizelt is its capital. It’s larger than Hyrule, but in the more inland parts they have intense winters and rich sulphur mines.”  
  
“Okay,” She said. “I’ll rephrase that. What were you doing there?”  
  
“That’s a rather long story. It’d take months to tell and the others are waiting.” He said and went about eating the mush quicker. The Innocent rolled her eyes. “I led men and women to war for most of the nation’s history since the reign of the tyrannical king. Before that, you could say, I helped in the rebellion against him.”  
  
“And married…and whatnot in that time.” The Innocent softly added, part of her hoping he had not heard her. Her thoughts fell again on William, the young man that looked so much like Kaz, and her heart filled with jealousy. How dare he leave her and then do that. It might be five hundred years, but she had thought that he would come back to her as the same, love-struck thief who’d left Hyrule five hundred years ago. Not this…this strange person she couldn’t define any better than the absurd attraction she felt for William.  
  
“You could say that.” Kaz sighed and took a sip of his drink. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I…” She stared at her mostly untouched plate, but the food only made her feel slightly queasy. Or was that this conversation? Maybe the reason she had not wished to speak or see him again was not because she hated him, but because she hated the idea that things might have changed. Those five hundred years were much longer than a few months; that eternity lasted far more than time. They weren’t those people who had fallen in love at the drop of a hat centuries ago, no, those people were only children. They were a thief and an archer, not a retired general and a destitute lady. The world had grown old now, and Tap laughed at the irony of it all and how silly she had once been.  
  
“I think I get it…a little.” Tap said. “But, I can’t go back to feeling for you like that, again…or at least not now. I don’t know if we ever could.”  
  
He nodded. “Don’t worry, I didn’t expect that. Naomi will be a real pain in the arse no matter what... But, since that’s the case, then you would let me protect you?”  
  
Tap blinked then giggled. The question was so absurd, but then again, she had been distant and acted strange when she was with him, or perhaps, well, no, he had pretty much stated he had no such feelings for her. She was not sure to be glad about that or not, or if he had meant something else that she did not understand.  
  
“Errr…if you want. Don’t you think it’s time to go?” She asked. “I’d think they’re worried or something like that.”  
  
“No. Naomi might even be excited.” Kaz smiled from across the table, finishing the last of his bowl. “Well, perhaps you’re right.”  
  
They left the inn, passing the blonde serving maid on the way out and walked along the streets heading back towards Tiveri’s hideout, while Aracient followed the skipping Innocent and the striding Redeemed. They chatted on a various number of things, but never touched upon anything too important. Tap dared not mention Mervil, though; she wondered still what had happened to Death. Was he here in the city too or was he searching the land for people to condemn? She stopped that train of thought before it got too far, then, someone tapped Tap on her shoulder and she gasped. Kaz reached for his sword, withdrew it, and pointed it at the newcomer’s throat.  
  
“Don’t hurt him!” Tap screamed. “That’s Will. I forced him to buy that hat when we were running from that scribe-girl yesterday.”  
  
Kaz sighed but put the blade back in its scabbard. “Scribe-girl? Darius is a man, Tap. He’s in the Goron Protectorate by now. You might want to get your eyes looked over…”  
  
The Innocent stuck out her tongue. Will sighed, forcing both of the Prophetic Ones to give their attention to him. “You’re like little kids. The first thing you did was act like the other was sick or something and now you’re best friends?”  
  
“At a certain age,” Kaz gave Will a smirk. “You revert back to your younger years.”  
  
The younger man shook his head. “That’s not that important. You know, I was looking for you two. I just found out that Orilieus is coming here for the Festival; the royals literally demanded his presence or something like that. I’m not sure, but this place is going to get even more dangerous in the next few days and…they said an ambassador is coming from Kyzoon. Her name was Leah Tirpz.”  
  
Kaz sighed. “That’s Irene’s other daughter…just bloody wonderful. Have Tiveri and the others decided what to do yet?”  
  
“Not that I know of. You old people take a long time to choose to do anything, old man.”  
  
Tap coughed. “Shouldn’t we tell Naomi and Jaros and that weird Twili?”  
  
The others nodded, even the raven. Tap smiled, confused, yes, but relieved and continued to skip along, humming an old forgotten tune that she had heard from the bards long ago. Even if the bards now sung a different tune than of the heroes' adventures, she and her friends still lived on. Why should she care if not even the bards could recall what had been done?


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four: A Rolling Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: leftironboot
> 
> Original notes: Ladies and mentlegen, I present to you my crazy long addition to FF. :D Sorry to keep y'all waiting, but you know how it is, you're never busy until you actually have something to do. :| Enjoy!

Blackness. Head...  
  
_Ugh..._  
  
Throbbing.  
  
_Where am... wait... no... I... I remem-_  
  
Eyes... stuck shut. Head... stinging. Ribs... aching...  
  
_My head... my... chest... he... he didn’t... Oh... oh ho no... NO._  
  
Darius forced his eyes open. Foggy shapes loomed around him. Taking a deep breath he felt a shooting pain in his chest. He reached up to feel blood pulsing heavily around the U-shaped indent on his brow. He moved his hand to discover another painful lump extruding from his head, only to have his hand slapped promptly back to his side.  
  
“Sir mustn’t touch.”  
  
“Mustn’t touch? MUSTN’T TOUCH?! You are most CERTAINLY one to talk! Exactly what sort of bed manner do you consider THIS then?!”  
  
The blurry matron gave a stifled sigh. “Sir was far too agitated, Sir needed to rest...”  
  
“You knocked me to the floor and clubbed me over the head! Resting and concussed are two wildly different conditions, _my dear doctor_! Now if you’ll kindly excuse me I will skip my next dose of blunt trauma and be on my way.”  
  
Throwing off his sheets, the young scribe began his next violent crusade for the freedom that awaited just outside of the stony hospital wing. Since awaking to find himself in the custody of a very single-minded Goron nurse, Darius had been attempting to leave on his own terms, often quite forcefully. The Goron nurse however, now in focus once more, had other plans and simply grabbed Darius around the shoulders, shoving him again indelicately back into bed.  
  
“Sir has given me...” The clearly very patient nurse paused dramatically here, tending briefly to a fresh set of bruises littering his bulbous face... “That is to say, Sir has given all of us, a very hard time, and perhaps Sir needs to lie down and relax... before his condition worsens.”  
  
The sickly sweet tone that dripped from this poorly masked threat would be enough to scare most folk right back into bed. And despite the fact that the promise of more ‘intensive treatment’ only added fuel to the fire, Darius knew that the colossal physician actually had a point and so begrudgingly stayed his aggressive advance and unhappily collapsed.  
  
Considering that most of his conscious time lately had been spent fighting stony behemoths for the right to leave his own hospital bed, Darius really had had very little time to survey his room. With his pounding head now resting, he noticed that the stone walls looked as if they had actually been carefully dug out like the inside of a cave rather than built up like the stone buildings Darius was used to. This seemingly backwards construction was contrasted by the beautifully crafted, gleaming medical tools scattered about on various chiselled benches. An incredibly heavyset window made from what appeared to be a solid brick of quartz let in a dull reddish glow from outside. Focusing on the warm glow, Darius mulled over his current position.  
  
_Alright... whether through inspired design or sheer dumb luck, everything in this city has been built like a fortress; the walls are solid stone, the steel gates are impassably huge and the elegant simplicity of the buildings leaves me no flaws to exploit in an escape... I doubt I am getting out of here via the usual methods, especially considering the state I’m in... but nevertheless, I must escape and carry out my orders. I have to try something... anything... I wonder... how strong is that window really..._  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
“Those rocks are beginning to look surprisingly palatable...”  
  
There were two reasons Yazstromo had come to this conclusion. The first was that while some people have a talent for magic or for fighting, others simply have a talent for eating. The humongous Goron enjoying a dish of fine satayed basalt on the opposite side of the room happened to have such an ability, and managed to make whatever he ate seem like the most supremely edible thing in the insufferably cramped diner. The second reason was that after repeatedly turning down the waiter’s offer of pumice flambé, Daedus and Yazstromo were brought two steaming bowls of the only non-rock based meal on the menu, which the waiter had assured them, not convincingly, was edible.  
  
The Goron noticed Yazstromo ogling his dish and shot him a quizzical look. The old man glared at the giant before returning quickly to his bubbling sludge.  
  
“I wonder if he’d notice if I swapped our dishes... just for a little while,” Yazstromo mused, fiddling with his beard.  
  
Daedus however had been thoroughly unfazed by how truly repulsive his meal was thanks to the strangeness of the place he now found himself in.  
  
As he and Yazstromo had hurried into the streets of the Goron Protectorate, neither had taken much note of anything except how dark and crowded the place was. After they slowed down and discovered a lack of burly guards furiously tracking them, they got the chance to take in some of the sights. The most prominent feature they noticed was the stunning vastness of the cavern they were in. It stretched so high that the ceiling was almost hidden entirely by darkness. This was helped little by the gloomy lighting of the lava channels that ran level with the roads. These rivers of churning molten rock, which were a wholly alien sight to Daedus’s aged eyes, carried massive shipping crates filled with various strange products to some of the larger structures in the city. Between these bigger buildings were the markets, burdened with a constant stream of customers and passersby. Among these markets Yazstromo and Daedus had found the ‘Hard Place Diner’, a small eatery filled with portraits of famous Gorons and rare rock samples, which despite its diminutive interior seemed to house a very large percentage of the city’s activity.  
  
All of this had finally tipped the scales and become too much for the poor, sheltered creature. Daedus had only just recently rejoined the world of activity, life and company. He had managed to shut out the initial shock with his desire for redemption and a decent meal after which he was tasked with the struggle to reach a safe harbour. Now though, with nothing to distract him from this barely remembered reality, Daedus was left feeling empty, scared and without guidance.  
Daedus looked around the room and could feel eyes constantly passing over him. There were so many people, and they all looked so strange. Everything was getting to be too much... just... too much...  
  
The world started to fade to darkness... sweat was beading on his forehead... his stomach began to clench...  
  
_What... what am I doing here... I can’t... I just..._  
  
“OW!”  
  
A sharp nip to his neck brought Daedus back to the diner. Little Lewis had been trying to get his attention as delicately as he could for the past few minutes, finally attempting a much more direct approach. Daedus now noticed that one particular set of eyes had been watching him very closely during his whole ordeal. Very sad eyes.  
  
“I might have suggested retching myself,” Yazstromo spoke conversationally, “if I had thought it would taste any better on the way up... I have my suspicions, but I’ll leave it at that.”  
  
He grinned, though his eyes remained locked on Daedus, glazed with a look of concern. Without moving his steely gaze, he directed a lofty address to Daedus’s right shoulder.  
  
“Lewis my dear contraption, for the sake of all things good and tasty, see if you can procure us something to wash down this affront to my pallet. I would suggest a mild acid.”  
  
The trinket glared at the old man as only a trinket can. He too was concerned for the frightened Daedus.  
  
“I’m finding it a bit tough to leave. I can’t say I shareeerrrr-” His beak had seized open. After a few seconds of straining, it slammed shut with a clack.  
  
“Eh... your hopeful optimism...”  
  
Yazstromo quickly shot the back talking bird an impatient, furrowed frown and directed him with his eyes to the bar. The little bird gave a tinny sigh. He knew better than to ignore one of those looks.  
“Although... I suppose... it couldn’t hurt to shake off some of this rust.”  
  
He clunkily shuffled off of Daedus’s shoulder and hopped pitifully away from the table, taking great effort in playing up his still stiff joints by toppling over every other step.  
  
“Daedus... how long were you stuck in that house?”  
  
The man, who had been focusing on the performance of his mechanical friend, was shocked back into conversation.  
  
“I believe I mentioned that it must have been 30 of my years or-”  
  
“No no... no, Daedus... how long were you really there? Everybody knows what it is like when you are waiting for that certain package to arrive or waiting for a certain conversation with political types to end or-”  
  
He was already fishing in the dark and now he feared he had lost him. This man, boy almost, was making it very difficult to feel useful.  
  
“Or... how about waiting... just waiting. We of all people know that waiting makes time act an utter fool. It finds it has your full attention and wants you to see it dance. Time will make you wait much, much longer than what others think you are waiting... and you’ve been waiting alone for a very long time, haven’t you my boy?”  
  
Daedus looked down. He didn’t know what to say. His skin was pale and his hair bleaching with age... but it was clear he had been a child for a lot longer than most folk.  
  
“You see, Daedus, all of these people around you? They all look like they know what they’re doing, don’t they? They all seem to have a story to follow... but not you. You haven’t had a life, not really, and you certainly haven’t got a purpose... at least... not one that you know of. I think I can understand why that’s frightening...”  
  
His scraggly hair continued to hide his face, and now his tears. Daedus wept silently, not wanting to interrupt, but Yazstromo was no fool. He only hoped that this was helping.  
  
“But perhaps... and this is just a perhaps... a person doesn’t need a life or a purpose to start writing their story, hmm? Perhaps you have something that everyone else here never even got a chance at. Every single person has been so filled up by the big proper world and the big proper stories that they had no choice in what story they were being written into... but you my boy... well... you’ve gone practically your whole life without a story. Maybe it’s time you started writing one, eh?”  
  
Daedus looked up and saw a hopeful twinkle in those ancient eyes. He smiled through his tears. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps all he needed to do was just... start.  
  
TINK... TINK... TINK...  
  
Daedus glanced over and saw Lewis slowly returning, somehow balancing a tray with two stone pitchers on top.  
  
“Ah, wonderful. You always had a knack for the impossible you old timepiece,” said the even older Yazstromo, swiftly plucking one of the mugs from Lewis’s perfect equilibrium and grinning as he struggled to stay upright. Daedus quickly assisted him by taking the tray and replacing it and his friend on the table. The little bird gave the smallest expression of annoyed fury ever documented by Yazstromo, which he returned with a jovial grin.  
  
“So, Lewis, your companion here and I were just discussing the nature of our adventure. What are your thoughts on the matter?”  
  
The old man continued to beam at the metal creature, hoping his ever vigilant optimism would once again grant him forgiveness. Lewis pouted, in his own universally unique way, and answered the endearing coot.  
  
“Considering the effort the chef put into making sure you weren’t eating something dug out of the cliff face, we should really think about repaying him by... well... paying him.”  
  
Yazstromo took a swig from the mug and recoiled recognising the distinctive taste of mud.  
  
“Yes, yes I think that I was done with my meal any way...” he muttered obligingly.  
  
The group rose from their stools and approached the counter. The barman watched their approach and saw the oldest among them fiddling with a pouch. They seemed to be chatting about their next destination and idly tossed some rupees onto the bench. They then turned to leave.  
  
_Hah hah_ , he thought. _Foreigners._  
  
“Excuse me gents,” said the behemoth of a bartender, picking up the gems, “but I hope you don’t expect this to cover your meal.”  
  
The adventurers looked at each other. Daedus simply had no idea what was happening at all, given that he had seen the gems before and assumed that it was a custom to give bright and shiny objects as a token of thanks in this place. Yazstromo however was completely baffled as he was almost certain that he had purposely handed over a small fortune in the hopes that the poor establishment wouldn’t have to serve dirt at his next meal.  
  
“I could give you more, barkeep, but I would suggest you get a barrel.”  
  
He returned a stony grin. “Boy, you really don’t know, do you mate? Rupees ain’t been accepted here for a couple of years now. The Hard Place Diner has been keeping up with the advancement of Goron society and as such we only accept Goro-bucks as payment here.”  
  
The old man squinted. “Goro-bucks? I see... and you won’t accept rupees at all?”  
  
“Oh, sure we will. The Hard Place Diner welcomes patrons who have specific tastes and as such we will happily grind these into one of our many delicious beverages for you.”  
  
The Goron grinned with a very practiced smile and reached for the gems. The old man snatched them with an apologetic smile and stuffed them quickly back into his bag.  
  
“No no no, I wouldn’t want to be a bother and besides, I’m already stuffed... but you really won’t take rupees for the meal?”  
  
“Would you like if I payed you in pastries, mate?”  
  
Yazstromo gave this serious thought.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Daedus cut in, “but you would prefer to have these Goh-roh-bucks? Might we see one in the hopes that if we find some we might give them to you?”  
  
Giving him a patiently confused look, the Goron pulled out a fist sized coin, a deep stony grey, which somewhat resembled a sand dollar.  
  
“This is a Goro-buck. These were brought in when the Protectorate decided that using snacks as currency was demeaning to our civilisation as a whole. You won’t find too many Goron establishments accepting rock candy these days mate, but since you seem like a nice guy, I’ll cut you some slack... half off; 20 Goro-bucks.”  
  
“I’m afraid that no matter how many times you halve the cost, good sir, I will still fall short of having anything at all. Perhaps,” said the wise old man, reaching deep into his robes, “this will do as some collateral while we sure up the debt,” and he handed over an intricately carved wooden box with a very strange looking latch on the front.  
  
“You see, the box belonged to one of the Prophetic Ones; _the_ Prophet, actually,” he continued, hoping to ignore the creature’s massive eyes rolling in disbelief and ambivalence.  
The old man adopted a tone of indifference himself and spouted off, “Oh, and there just so happens to be a signed likeness of some, uhh, Dolomike? Dolomire? Dolomire fellow in there... not that that means anyth-”  
  
“ _THE_ DOLOMIRE?! You only mean the GREATEST Goron wrestler of our TIME?!” Clearly this had caught the Goron’s attention. His eyes flashed with excitement as he snatched the box out of the old man’s hands.  
  
“Yes, if you happen to find it before we get back then feel free to hold onto it. Although I’d be careful if I were you,” he added with a tone of almost patronizing innocence, “as that latch can be devious to undo and you might feel inclined to snap the box in half. Unfortunately that autograph is a particularly delicate one. The Doloman fellow apparently had it with him during one of his bigger matches and it’s all crumpled and gritty, just hanging on by a thread I’d say. Right, well, we’ll be back in a moment my good man!” Yazstromo beamed, seeing that the Goron was now thoroughly immersed in twisting and turning the small latch while trying to contain his seemingly unbearable excitement. He gestured to his partners and they slunk out of the door.  
  
“That should keep him occupied for a little while I should hope,” Yazstromo sighed, relieved.  
“He really did seem excited about that likeness. It certainly was lucky that you happened to have one on you.” Daedus was enthralled by how things just happened to fall into place around this mysterious man.  
  
“Yes, well, this is just another example of what I was saying before, Daedus. I’ve discovered we need to craft our own stories, forge our own destinies and such. I happened to need a priceless artifact and so I made sure I happened to have a priceless artifact... and for all that Goron chap knows, I really did have one.” Yazstromo let out a chuckle and winked mischievously at his still confused travelling partner.  
  
“Let’s just get back before he figures out how to open that box, eh? Now, Daedus, where do your instincts tell us we should go? What chapter comes next? How does this exciting stretch of your story begin?”  
  
Daedus began to think when inspiration hit him like a brick. Or, moreover, a Goron hit the ground in front of him after being launched out of a window and crushing three massive crates of sand.  
“Ungrateful little human, kick me through a window, who even does that? He’s definitely getting another smack on the head...” mumbled the Goron as he dusted himself off, straightened his nurse’s cap and began the slow decent up the stairs to the room with the now shattered window.  
  
Daedus smiled. A proper smile. Maybe this story was going to be easier to write than he thought.  
  
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“UNHAND ME! This is preposterous! Just let me leave!”  
  
A pair of Goron guards had heard the ruckus and had grabbed Darius in mid-flight as he came tumbling through the hall. They had dragged him all the way back to his room and had done so with considerably less care than a hospital guard might be expected to exercise.  
  
“Ahh, bro, it isn’t advisable to try stunts like that, yeah? You might have gotten yourself hurt, kickin’ a Goron through a solid quartz window. You’re in a hospital you know, bro,” said the younger of the two. He clearly saw Darius as an excitable, confused little thing and was quite sincere in his advice. The older of the two, with a thick stony moustache and a heavy brow, understood full well the type of punk Darius was and how little respect he had for the people who were caring for him.  
  
“You think you’re so tough punk? Don’t think we haven’t heard about all the trouble you’ve been causing up here. Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean I won’t rough you up, so pipe down!”  
As he said this he tightened his grip on the poor scribe and indelicately forced him back onto his bed.  
  
“Sorry bro, but this is for your own good you know. You can’t be runnin’ around kickin’ guys through windows like that. Don’t worry, we’ll be right outside if you need anything, okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” the moustachioed golem chimed in, “we’ll be right here... watching... so shape up and don’t misbehave!”  
  
The two left Darius to his own musings about whether he could survive the several story drop to the ground floor and took guard outside.  
  
A few moments later, Darius’s nurse returned with a very peculiar grin on his face.  
  
“Hello sir, I have some good news for you. Thanks my quick trip outside I ran into some friends of yours.”  
  
“That is highly unlikely.”  
  
“Yes, I thought so too. However, when they explained that it was urgent they see their mentally disturbed friend, I knew they must be on the level. Come on in sirs, I’ll be right outside if you need anything. If he gets too rowdy, I’d be more than happy to sedate him.”  
  
The nurse opened the door to reveal two aged men, one more so than the other.  
  
“Thank you my dear doctor, we’ll only be a moment,” said the eldest one calmly and with a soft smile closed the door.  
  
Darius looked them up and down. He was certain that these were no faces he knew, and he remembered faces.  
  
“So, we hear that you haven’t been enjoying the facilities here.”  
  
“Your understatement couldn’t get any grander if I-”  
  
“Kicked the Goron nursing staff out a window, yes, we saw. It is an odd place this, isn’t it? Did you know that they don’t accept rupees here?” The old man fiddled with an implement on one of the pristine benches.  
  
“Of course. It is common practice for Gorons these days. I myself carry a bit of their currency on me on long journeys just in case. Are you sure it shouldn’t be you in the hospital instead of me, old man?”  
  
He brought the implement to his mouth and began picking at what he thought must have been a small stone lodged in his teeth.  
  
“I suspect that that may be the case, although I fear that many more poor nurses might get flung out of windows. This sort of thing happens, as you know. I tell you what though young sir... if you would be so kind as to lend us some of that money to pay off a little meal we had earlier, then we might be able to help you with your living arrangements.”  
  
Yazstromo twirled the tool slowly between his fingers and grinned at the poor scribe.  
  
Darius looked from the cunning old man to his companion, who looked a little uncomfortable but clearly still more confident about this plan than he himself felt.  
  
“And exactly how are two old beggar men going to break me out of a solid stone fortress surrounded by muscle-bound guards?”  
  
“Oh,” Yazstromo mused, “we have our ways. So, it’s a deal then?”  
  
“I’m sorry sir, you and your friend are clearly confused and desperate,” Darius said, feeling almost a little sorry for their position, “and you seem not to have grasped why I should be trusting a couple of strange old men who have lied their way into my hospital room.”  
  
The two men looked at each other, the older one with a snide grin and the younger one simply confused. And then, surprisingly, the younger one spoke.  
  
“Do you have a reason not to?” Daedus asked the scribe, who was a little taken aback. “My travelling companion mentioned to me that you must clearly be in a rush to get to your destination, as otherwise you would simply stay and enjoy the opportunity to relax and recover. If you are indeed in need of an immediate escape, then I feel that we are the only ones for a fair distance not intent on keeping you in that bed. Even if we cannot help you, you will be no worse a position for accepting our help.”  
  
Yazstromo turned to the scribe, who now wore a stunning shade of frustration, and smiled.  
“Truer words were never spoken my boy. And I should hardly think that, for a man such as yourself who carries extra money in exotic currencies just for a rainy day, losing 20 Goro-bucks seems like that great a loss, especially if it gives you a chance to be on your way a little swifter. We all take gambles, my friend. Yours is simply a small wager that two old men can defeat an army of stone giants.”  
  
Yazstromo quickly spun the instrument to a point and left it revolving on the tip of his finger.  
  
“I’ve bet on far worse odds.” He added with a grin.  
  
Darius was surprised at the coherence of their argument. It was true that at this point any assistance would be a step up. He grimaced and reached down beside his bed.  
  
“You know, 20 Goro-bucks is pretty expensive for a meal. You should know now that you’ve been ripped off.”  
  
Daedus held out his hand and accepted the pouch of coins. Darius, now resigned to whatever fate had in store, lay back on his bed with his arms behind his head.  
  
“They left me some of my personal effects like money but took everything else down to the front desk, hence my greater difficulty in escaping. Whatever master plan you two have, make sure it includes getting my things.”  
  
The two men were now quite pleased with themselves, Daedus especially, and were quite distracted with their own sense of acheivement.  
  
“Yes yes, we’ll get your toys, never mind that. Just rest up! You’ve got a big day ahead of you... I imagine!” Yazstromo shouted and, flinging open the door, dashed out of the room with Daedus clutching Lewis in his hand and hurrying after him.  
  
Darius glanced out of the doorway and, seeing his guests had left, breathed a sigh of defeat.  
  
“Grace of the Gods, why me?”  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Daedus, having caught up with Yazstromo, was feeling quite good about his day so far. A little tired, maybe, but he was running on 30 years worth of pent up adrenalin and he felt like nothing could stop him now.  
  
“Ahem, not to doubt your eternal wisdom Yazstromo,” whispered the little copper bird, who had collar, “but yours is the walk of a man who has a plan... which is odd, because I don’t remember you ever mentioning one.”  
  
The old man winced briefly at the bird and pontificated his reasoning in as lofty a voice as he could muster.  
  
“We may not have a set in stone, map on the wall, provisions in the bag plan, no. But we have done very well for ourselves so far and I am confident that our adventure will continue on in a stunning fashion. Confidence, my tinny little friend, is a powerful weapon. It is why I always win at cards.”  
  
“From what I remember, you rarely won at cards, Yazstromo,” chimed Lewis.  
  
“Yes, well, being a gracious and charitable friend is another one for the arsenal,” Yazstromo rebutted, poking his tongue at the trinket. Daedus stifled a laugh and kept his eyes forward.  
  
The three arrived to an interesting sight at the diner. The tables had been shoved unceremoniously to the corners and in the centre were two Gorons shoving and batting each other about. Yazstromo and Daedus worked their way through the seething, cheering crowd and over to the bar, where Yazstromo was pleased to see the bartender still clicking away at the latch on the little wooden box, though he was now thoroughly enjoying the distraction of the wrestling.  
  
“EXCUSE ME,” Yazstromo piped up over the noise, “BUT WE HAVE YOUR PAYMENT RIGHT HERE.”  
  
“WHAT? OH! WONDERFUL! ALTHOUGH, TO BE HONEST I WAS KIND OF HOPING YOU WOULDN’T COME BACK MATE. BIT OF A WRESTLING FAN YOU SEE. THAT’S WHAT GAVE ME THE IDEA!” The Goron gestured to the middle of the room with a grin on his face.  
  
Yazstromo smiled and nodded, taking the box back off the barkeep and tucking it safely away in his robes.  
  
“YES, A WONDERFUL IDEA IT IS, SPOT OF- oh... oh sorry...” The old man realised he was still shouting despite the round ending and the crowd quietening down.  
  
“But yes, spot of exercise here and there is good for the bones, eh Daedus?”  
  
He nudged Daedus, who nodded, despite being enthralled by the preparations of the next fighters.  
  
“So this is a common occurrence then? The fighting?”  
  
The Goron shook his head at the old man. “Nah, nah, this is different to the usual wrestling we have going on here. See, we just got word that in a few hours, some fellow named Orilieus is coming through town on the way to the Autumn festival and he’s looking for the strongest Goron’s to accompany him as guards. So I thought we’d have a contest to find the strongest out of us, because after all, WE’RE THE STRONGEST IN THE WHOLE TOWN, RIGHT BOYS?!”  
  
He threw his massive arm in the air and was immediately greeted with a booming cheer which Yazstromo found delightful, but quite shook the unsuspecting Daedus and poor Lewis nearly fell from his hidden perch.  
  
“Well, who could argue with that? So, the Autumn festival eh?... My word, what a marvellous celebration it is... Oh, you’d love it Daedus,” Yazstromo leaned against the counter, his eyes lost in dreamy memories.  
  
“You can practically swim through the smell of the food, Daedus, and drinks are thrown around like sailors throw water from a sinking ship... people dance in the streets and there are jugglers filling the sky itself with dancing and the colours! Oh the colours Daedus, the colours are so beautiful...”  
Daedus was seized by the images spun by these words and was quite certain now that he needed to see it all with his own eyes.  
  
“Hah hah, well, perhaps you should go then gents! It isn’t too long a trip if you have a horse or carriage.”  
  
Daedus’s spirit fell a little bit when he remembered how difficult the trip here was in the first place.  
  
“We... we don’t have a carriage though... or a horse...” he muttered, now looking down.  
  
The Goron let out a hearty laugh. “Hah hah hah, well, goodness knows how you got up here then. Maybe this Orilieus fellow will be happy to let you ride with him, eh?”  
  
“Ahh, I’m certain of it!” cried Yazstromo, clapping Daedus around the shoulders encouragingly. “And should we be expecting to greet any of you on the way to the Festival? Eh, fellows?”  
  
The old man raised his voice over the clamor and held a hand to his ear. The crowd exploded with cheers and two more Gorons took the opportunity to dive into the ring and start grappling. Yazstromo chuckled and motioned to Daedus that it might be time to go. Daedus looked to the Goron and counted out 20 coins from the purse. He gave a small nod and a thank you then followed Yazstromo out of the noisy room.  
  
The streets were quiet, at least compared to the diner, and the two men and their bird felt somewhat more at home in this strange place. Daedus walked confidently, nodding and grinning at Gorons here and there; he didn’t feel quite so lonely anymore. But he was still concerned about one matter in particular.  
  
“Yazstromo... are you really certain that Orilieus will let us join him on his way to the festival?” Daedus asked carefully, as if asking too hard would somehow change the answer.  
  
Lewis poked his head out of Daedus’s collar, a sad look somehow glistening in his eyes.  
  
“Oh, uhh, Daedus... I think they were joking... If this Orilieus person is looking to pay for the strongest Gorons in town, he is probably pretty important. I doubt he’d let two strangers simply join his convoy.”  
  
“Once again, you’ve missed the point entirely my dearest bird-brain,” hummed Yazstromo, with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
“Come now Yazstromo, don’t give the poor guy false hope-”  
  
“I will do no such thing! In fact, I think we should let Daedus tell us our course of action, don’t you?”  
  
Lewis managed to etch a look of concern onto his stoic avian face, but remained silent. He hadn’t been given cause to doubt the old man yet... he just didn’t want his friend to get hurt.  
  
“Now,” Yazstromo said, turning to Daedus, “Lewis is absolutely correct. I doubt Orilieus would let a couple of strange old kooks like us join his group for no reason. However, we know for a fact that he is letting two people join his ranks, correct?”  
  
Daedus thought back to the diner, back to what little he had recently found out about this Orilieus character.  
  
“Yes! He requires two body guards! That is his entire reason for coming here!”  
  
“Spot on. Now, exactly what kinds of bodyguards is he looking for?”  
  
Daedus, not seeing the direction of these questions, again answered innocently.  
  
“Gorons. Orilieus is looking for the strongest Gorons to guard him.”  
  
“Once more, a brilliant deduction Daedus! Now, you’re a clever lad, do the maths: Orilieus is looking for the two strongest Gorons to accompany him to the Autumn festival; we want to accompany Orilieus to the Autumn festival... so that means...?”  
  
“We must be the two strongest Gorons!” Daedus gleefully cried, only realising a moment later the strangeness of this statement.  
  
“Perfect! A wonderful plan, Daedus. I honestly couldn’t think of anything more straightforward,” Yazstromo chirped happily, his chest puffed out proudly.  
  
Lewis cocked his head, one eye twitching slightly from the sheer willpower required to comprehend this plan. He looked from one to the other, then let out a little tinny sigh and tucked himself back into Daedus’s collar, a small grin having worked its way onto his steely beak. This was going to be fun.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Throughout the town was a pressing silence. Not the kind of silence you hear out in a field or in an empty room, but the kind that you hear when something big and hollow is suddenly devoid of activity. This could be explained by the sudden migration of every inhabitant of the colossal cavern to the town gates, forgiving of course the medical staff, who were required to stay and tend to their patients, much to the chagrin of a certain scribe. Yes, almost the whole town had rushed to cheer on the strongest Gorons among them and delighted in watching the chosen two grapple and spar with willing bystanders, tossing them gleefully back into the crowd.  
  
A make-shift arena had been cobbled together long before the crowd had arrived, seemingly by some of the more fanatic wrestling enthusiasts, and the two massive Gorons in the middle of the ring seemed to be enjoying it to no end. One was quite tall and very muscular. He sported a sleek, stony moustache, the chiselled form of which curved up slightly at the ends, lightly framing his long face. The other was much shorter and stockier all over. He was so heavyset that his arms looked almost too thick and tough to be attached to his body, which could have been likened to a large boulder. While clothing had become more and more popular among the Goron people, those who practiced the wrestling arts had opted for a more traditional approach and wore very little. The tall Goron sported a only baggy set of pants tied with a thick rope, while the thicker creature wore only a large flat belt, dividing his massive body and his two trunk-like legs. Individually, these two could easily withstand virtually anything that was bold enough to attack them, but together, it seemed they were a stone wall that no sane being would seriously attempt to topple. Yet still, despite this, two far smaller and far stranger figures prepared themselves just outside the ring.  
  
“How are you doing in there? It shouldn’t be too hot as I added a coat of this marvellous slime that grows under my bathtub occasionally. It seems to thrive in hot, humid conditions and excretes delightfully fresh air. It’s also marvellous at decomposing foodscraps... and furniture... and floors... but don’t worry, it is entirely possible that those last few were simply because the slime got bored, which hopefully shouldn’t be a problem with our plan, eh?”  
  
The figure stood taller than regular men but was by no means rivalling some of the locals in stature. Its form was obscured by a loose tunic and baggy pants. With the addition of some thick leather gloves, canvas shoes and a scarf which hid the majority of his face, the outfit looked like something that might be more at home on a lithe monk or a bandit, but still managed to carry an air of style and tradition. His companion however was dressed in something else entirely, and it was easy to see why the taller one might have been concerned about his acquaintance. This one too was covered from head to foot with clothing; a thick woolly jacket covered his top half, with the lower segment being hidden by a pair of shorts over some tight leggings. His feet wore boots, his head a beanie with flaps to cover the sides of his face. The only uniform they seemed to share were their thick leather gloves. Though, despite their forms being almost entirely hidden by clothing, the bulky limbs and rocky protrusions across their bodies gave away their identities almost immediately; these were, without a doubt, two Gorons, albeit over-dressed ones. Except that they weren’t Gorons at all.  
  
“I feel fine Yazstromo... although, I am worried that I will not remember what to do,” the gaudy figure spoke worriedly, as he awkwardly shuffled about practicing the motions he was so concerned about forgetting.  
  
“Daedus my boy, when you are performing you can’t afford to be too worried... or... perhaps that's too not-worried... in either case, we’ve practiced enough and now you simply need to have confidence!”  
  
Yazstromo enthusiastically reached over to give Daedus a reassuing pat on the back Daedus, but he overshot and knocked the poor man to the ground.  
  
“Oh my... sorry about that... I assure you though, once you get into that ring everything will run like clockwork! You have nothing to be worried about,” he insisted, offering his hand to help the poor man to his feet.  
  
Daedus had good reason to be worried though. He had never in his whole life tried something like this. In the few hours between the three adventurers finding out about Orilieus’s arrival and his actual appearance, Yazstromo, Daedus and Lewis had been working relentlessly at making their impossible plan come to fruition. They had managed to coax some enthusiastic townsfolk into helping them shift the massive wooden crates into place to create a makeshift stage. They took great care in preparing the arena on top, making it an invitation to any would-be champions. Underneath the arena though was something wholly more bizarre. Strings and pulleys had been connected to all different parts of the stage. Weights had been hung on certain slats while others had been thinned out. Detailed calculations guided every decision as the three worked on the intricate trap. Time moved quickly, but so did they. Taking the generous amounts of money lent to them by Darius, the two men swiftly went about buying their supplies. They bought massive sheets of thick leather and their distinctive aforementioned choices of clothing. Hiding in a dusty abandoned dance studio, the three ambitious adventurers had set to work on creating their disguises; they were going to make themselves into Gorons.  
  
Daedus hadn’t really done too much sewing in his time, forgiving little patchwork jobs with old bent needles, although he couldn’t help but be suspicious of how well and how quickly Yazstromo’s sewing needles worked. By this it is meant not that he felt that it was himself or Yazstromo who were doing the sewing, but the needles themselves. When his hand began to cramp and he needed a rest, he could sense that the needle felt reluctant to stop working and he could have sworn that whenever he left it alone it twitched just the tiniest bit. He considered that perhaps this is simply how very good sewing needles were meant to be and left it at that. They plastered some jagged rocks along some of the impossibly fine seems and filled the insides with stuffing from a half empty pillow that Yazstromo claimed he had stuffed in his pack on a whim. As they filled the suits it became increasingly more apparent to Daedus that not only was there much more stuffing in this pillow than there had first appeared but also that he had never had so much luck in such a short time as when he was with this mysterious old man. Not ever. This might have been an interesting point for Daedus to muse upon if, for one, Daedus was the sort of person to muse upon things and, for another, their plan had almost miraculously come completely together, save for one impending detail: the final execution. Though he may not have realised, Daedus did indeed have good reason to be worried. It was show time.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five: Haunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Ridley
> 
> original notes: Well, here it is. (Gasp!) Introducing an npc here, Dren. This is pretty much just a side story, seeing as there's not much going on with Fulkrome plot-wise. A measly 4,079 words, enjoy.

Fulkrome breathed in the evening air as he walked around the small lake. A place so familiar yet so changed. Not too far from the Old Capitol, the lake was a feature not present all those centuries ago. A few small groves surrounded the shoreline, making homes for the small animals happily chattering to each other as the sun sank farther and farther towards the horizon.  
  
_I suppose nothing remains the same forever._ he thought as he walked around the edge of the lake, a routine he had started only recently. This daily walk provided him with something to do in his spare time, which he had quite a bit of in recent times. A breeze rolled across the water, sending ripples over the surface. As Fulkrome stared at the dark water, a slowly drifting figure caught his eye somewhere on the other side. It floated towards him, slow and wisplike. Fulkrome moved his hand towards his sword, ready to draw it if the need to arose. As the figure got nearer and nearer to his side of the little lake, Fulkrome was able to pick up the ethereal being’s features. It was small, not much bigger than a large dog. A faint glowing began to emanate from the mysterious creature as nearly inaudible whispers began to flow through Fulkrome’s metal helm.  
  
He could hear _”You…”_ whispered very faintly all around him, as if several voices were talking to him at once. The strange figure was only a few feet from Fulkrome by then, seemingly fighting against the light wind to stay in place as it opened its two eyes. Pulling its arms out from its body, it produced a small decrepit lantern, the source of the strange glowing. Taking an effort to raise its arm, it pointed at Fulkrome just as the whispers started to increase both in volume and speed.  
  
_”Why are you still alive...?_ it said several times, a different emotion apparent each time.  
  
“Do I know you little poe?” Fulkrome inquired of his strange visitor.  
  
_”You **killed** them…”_ it said with mostly anger in its voices, ignoring Fulkrome’s question.  
  
“I’ve killed many in my time,” Fulkrome said with regret in his voice as the poe returned it’s arm to its side, seemingly tired from the effort in keeping it up.  
  
_”You killed **ME** …”_ it replied, all its voices sounding enraged now.  
  
“That’s still not enough information for me to know who you are.”  
  
Looking over to the setting sun, Fulkrome realized how late it was getting. The gates to the capitol would be closing for the night. As Fulkrome began to turn and head back towards his temporary home within the capitol, an onslaught of the poe’s whispers whirled around him, each whispering something different to him. Within the maelstrom of voices, he could only pick up a few of the things said. Voices asking him things about himself he could not answer, telling him what his victims went through because of him. He could hear nothing save for the poe’s constant questioning, which was getting even louder.  
  
The poe’s eyes began to get larger, burning with energy. As Fulkrome looked at it, he noticed the creature was now steadier, even though the breeze still blew across the water. As soon as Fulkrome began to draw his blade, the voices stopped abruptly and the poe motioned for him to follow it. _”Come,”_ it whispered sorrowfully. Looking back towards the capitol, Fulkrome began to follow the wisp, ready to defend himself if needed to. The ghostly figure floated toward one of the groups of trees surrounding the small body of water. As they neared, the poe’s lantern started to glow brighter, illuminating the trees around them. One tree in particular stood out, being a lighter color than the rest of the trees around the shore. The poe stopped near the tree, floating towards the trunk while resting its hand on the rough bark.  
  
As Fulkrome caught up with the ghost, he saw an odd arrangement of flowers in front of the tree. Words were carved into the tree, worn away over all the years. Returning his attention to the flowers, he thought to himself. _If this is my doing, someone must have been caring for this area, these flowers are arranged too intricately to be natural._  
  
“Have you been here all this time poe?” he asked the ghost, who was nearly on the ground now, staring at him.  
  
_”For so many years… Trapped…”_ was his response, sounding completely saddened, no other emotions showing through any of the many voices speaking at once.  
  
“Is your body buried here?” Fulkrome asked as the poe stared at him, rhythmically growing and shrinking as if it were breathing.  
  
Not responding, the poe faded away, its evanescent form dissipating in the breeze.  
  
“Where are you going?” Fulkrome said, snatching at the vanishing wisp.  
  
Silence fell over the area as the whispers stopped completely for the first time since they began. _Looks like this is where I’ll be spending the night then_ Fulkrome thought as he sat against a boulder, facing toward the grave in front of the pale tree. Trying to make out the carved words in the tree, he deciphered only a few words, the rest being too faded or worn away to read. Whoever was buried here was named Himel, whether or not that was the poe, Fulkrome couldn’t tell. As he was looking over the old tree, Fulkrome noticed something under the bed of flowers. _Was there anything there just a few minutes ago?_ he wondered to himself as he reached over to grab it. Pulling a small chain out of the dirt, he realized it was necklace. _There’s dirt on every part of it. It looks as though it was just unearthed._  
  
_”Remember…”_ a singular voice said quietly, oddly alone without the other voices speaking at once.  
  
Brushing the dirt off the necklace, Fulkrome slowly put it on, letting the amulet on the end drop to his chest. Thinking about the events of the last our, he drifted off to sleep, thoughts racing through his mind.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The sun peaked between the trees in front of him as Fulkrome woke. Stretching his arms, he began to stand up. Looking around he realized he couldn’t remember parts of the previous night, the memories blurred and fuzzy. Hearing the necklace fall against his armor, the memories quickly flashed back to him as he looked down upon the mysterious trinket. _Why did I put this on without much thought?_ he wondered. _I’m lucky it doesn’t seem to be cursed or something._ Reaching to take it off, a hiss whirled up around him.  
  
“Still here, are you?” he asked, looking around for the poe.  
  
_”The village…”_ the poe whispered as it floated up from behind Fulkrome, moving over his shoulder and stopping a foot in front of his face.  
  
“I can’t be of much use to you if you’re going to be so cryptic about everything,” Fulkrome replied. What seemed to be a sigh rushed past him as the poe reached for the amulet around Fulkrome’s neck. As it made contact, the poe was drawn towards it, disappearing inside. _I don’t really want to make any spirits angry,_ he thought as he rested the amulet in his palm. _I’ll get rid of this if the poe causes any trouble. For now it looks like he’s coming with me._  
  
It was still early in the morning, the sun rising less than an hour ago. As he began the walk back towards the Old Capitol, Fulkrome thought over what the poe had said.  
  
_Village, that’s certainly very descriptive. There are many more villages around now than there were last time I was in this land, which does narrow it down some, although not enough to know exactly what the apparition was talking about. It’s hard to remember if there was a village where that lake is now. If there was, wouldn’t there be more evidence of that in the area other than a single grave?_  
  
As Fulkrome drew nearer to the gates of the capitol, he could see workers putting up decorations for the Autumn Festival.  
  
_Things are always changing,_ Fulkrome thought, _sometimes slow, sometimes fast. The change may be temporary, or lasting, but in the end, nothing’s the same._ To him, the festival was a sign of these changes.  
  
Passing the workers at the gate, he noticed most of them smiling, excited for the upcoming festival. This excitement could be seen in many of the people in the streets, many who were rushing back and forth to prepare things. Making his way towards the house where he was staying, he involuntarily reached up and grabbed hold of the necklace, carefully holding it in his hand. Looking down, he tried to release it only to notice a strange glow, similar to the glowing of the poe’s lantern. A very thin smoke crept its way from the amulet between his fingers and gathered in front of him. As more smoke gathered, more of the poe’s features appeared, until eventually the eyes opened as the poe was fully formed. Fulkrome looked around at the people in the streets, expecting some to notice the specter. Everyone went on with their business, as if they didn’t notice the spirit floating in the street.  
  
_”Festival…”_ its whispers said in union.  
  
“You know about the festival?” Fulkrome asked as a man walked past.  
  
“Well of course I know about it, everyone celebrates it around here.” The man said, somewhat surprised at the dark nut speaking to him.  
  
“Oh, sorry, I was asking the poe, not you.” Fulkrome said, turning towards the man.  
  
“…There’s no poes around here mister, at least none I’ve ever seen,” the man replied, apparently not seeing the one right in front of Fulkrome.  
  
“Interesting… Well, have a good day sir, I’ve got to get going,” Fulkrome said, continuing on his way to his temporary home. The man stared after him, puzzled, and went back to what he was doing. The poe drifted after Fulkrome, constantly whispering to him but completely unnoticed by the people around it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fulkrome pushed open the door to see Femm looking into the fireplace.  
  
“Eventful night?” she asked as Fulkrome put his sword and shield against the wall.  
  
“You could say that,” he said, holding the necklace between his fingers. “How much do you know about poes?”  
  
“Hmm? A little more than the average person would, why?” she asked as she looked up from the fireplace and noticed the necklace around Fulkrome’s neck. “Where’d you get that?”  
  
“A poe led me to it last night. And it’s been following me since then,” he said, turning to the poe who had just floated into the room through one of the walls. “There you are, say hello to Femm.”  
  
The poe simply drifted lazily around the room as Femm followed Fulkrome’s gaze only to see nothing.  
  
“Something feels odd, but I don’t see anything. You sure there’s something there, or are you going senile?” she asked.  
  
“It’s here, but why you can’t see it, I don’t know. There was a man outside who couldn’t see it either, even though it was floating right there.”  
  
“Odd, I wasn’t aware poes could be visible to certain people and not others, it’s not something I’ve seen before,” she said, still unable to see the ethereal figure floating around the room. “Although putting on that necklace may not have been the smartest thing to do.”  
  
“I don’t really remember making a conscious decision to put it on, I seemed to do it against my will,” he said, sitting against the wall near his equipment. “Besides, I didn’t think it would’ve been a good idea to make any spirits angry, even though there’s probably quite a few of those out there somewhere.”  
  
“ _Calling…”_ A few whispers began to swirl around him.  
  
“This poe talking to me can get kind of unnerving at times.”  
  
“I would imagine ghosts would be uncomfortable to talk to,” Femm said somewhat uninterested.  
  
“Several voices speaking at once, sometimes saying the same thing, other times saying different things than each other.”  
  
“Fascinating,” Femm said, standing up. “I think I’ll go take a walk, I’ll see you later,” she said as she walked out of the door.  
  
“Looks like it’s just you and me now poe,” Fulkrome said to spirit, who had stopped drifting around and now floated in the middle of the room. “I still haven’t figured out your name yet. I saw the name Himel on the grave, could that be you?” he inquired to the ghost.  
  
Shaking its head, the poe replied with _”Place…”_  
  
“I’ve never heard of any villages called Himel,” Fulkrome replied, thinking back, “if it’s even a village. You’re going to have to explain things a little more if you want me to help you.”  
  
As Fulkrome continued to think over everything, the poe began jerking around erratically in the air. Before Fulkrome could react, the poe flew towards him, arms flailing. Fulkrome blacked out as the poe reached him, its eyes seemingly on fire.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
{i]What a dreary place.[/i] Fulkrome thought as he walked through the foreign world. Everything was bathed in gray light, no color existing anywhere that he could see, other than himself. Every step he took sent ripples outward, as if he were walking on water. The only sound that could be heard was the wind, constantly blowing, never picking up or dying down. _Whatever that poe did to bring me here, it’s going to pay._  
  
As he walked towards the only distinguishable landmark in the gray world, Fulkrome felt the presence of someone behind him. Turning quickly, he was blown to the ground by whatever it was behind him.  
  
_”A shame I can’t do much more to hurt you here,”_ the stranger said. Looking up, Fulkrome saw the figure looked much like the poe that had been following him, only much more humanoid in appearance. Tall, slender and wearing a tattered robe, the figure glared down at Fulkrome with contempt.  
  
“What is this place?” Fulkrome asked of the apparition.  
  
_”A place you should know very well, considering you spend so much time here,”_ the poe responded, still glaring at Fulkrome.  
  
“Are you the poe from earlier?” Fulkrome asked, getting up.  
  
_”Indeed I am,”_ the figure replied. When Fulkrome was standing again, the poe turned to walk away, motioning for him to follow.  
  
Fulkrome walked after the poe, trying to think of a way to get out of the strange world. Silently the pair walked for what seemed like hours to find a small house, old in appearance but in good repair. By this point, Fulkrome had realized following the poe was probably his best option, seeing as it was the only other being in this world, and possibly the only one who knew how to get out.  
  
_”And you’d be right about that assumption,”_ the poe said.  
  
“How did you know what I was thinking?” Fulkrome asked, startled by the spirit’s ability to read his mind.  
  
_”This world’s rules are much different than the real world’s,”_ the poe explained, walking into the old house.  
  
“You have yet to tell me exactly what this world is,” Fulkrome replied as he followed the poe into the house.  
  
_”You’ll figure it out sooner or later,”_  
  
The room they were in was decorated nicely, all the furniture looking centuries old and seemingly untouched over that time. As the poe sat down on one of the large sofas, a fire sprang to life in the fire place. Motioning for Fulkrome to sit down, the poe said, _”I suppose you’d like to know why I brought you here,”_  
  
“Why I’m here is only of the questions I’d like you to answer,” Fulkrome said, reluctantly sitting in a chair near the fire. The fire, gray like the rest of the strange world, emitted a strange warmth. The muffled sound of the fire was all that could be heard during the lull in the conversation. The moments dragged on as neither of the two spoke. After the long silence, the poe finally spoke.  
  
_”I had been waiting for so long to finally find you. Wandering all these years, hunger for revenge the only thing driving me on. When I had died, I figured that would be the end. The end where I wouldn’t have to deal with all the pain of life. But instead I was damned to existence as a poe, doomed to wonder, trapped in that world.”_  
  
“Was bringing me here how you’d enact your revenge?” Fulkrome asked.  
  
_”I cannot harm you in this world, and I am much too weak in yours. I had come to terms with the fact that my thirst for revenge would never ne sated. Instead I brought you here to ask of you a favor.”_ The poe turned to look at Fulkrome, a look of hope deep within its eyes.  
  
“And what might that favor be?”  
  
_”I want you to find what became of my family. All this time spent in the afterlife, I have found out nothing of their fates. The one thing I know is this; they were killed by you and your minions a few months after I died. My death couldn’t be considered very pleasant. I was left in the street of a small village, the flesh on my neck agonizingly scorched. The burns were your doing, of course. Lying there, hardly alive but feeling all of the pain, I watched as you and your creatures wreak havoc on the small town and its people. I was horrified because of the evil acts I watched you commit._ ”  
  
Staring at the fire, the memories of this event came back to Fulkrome. “Why were you in that village? From what I’ve gathered so far, you’re from a village called Himel. I can’t quite remember the name of the name of the village you’re talking about, but I know that wasn’t its name.”  
  
_”And you would be correct. Himel was a very small village, only a few families lived there. It was hardly considered a village, at least not to any of the major powers in the land at the time. I had left one day to get some needed supplies from a village a few miles away. I was hardly in town for more than an hour when those monsters showed up, destroying whatever they could. I wasn’t the kind of person that would run when other people could be saved, so I grabbed some armor and weapons from the armory to try and fight back the creatures. I was able to fight off some, but others were too fast, not bothering to attack someone who could fight them back, instead opting to focus their attention on the helpless people.”_  
  
Fulkrome watched the dancing flames in the fireplace as the poe told its story, the scene rushing back to him from the back of his memory. The imagery still clear as it was the day it happened, not dulled by the passing of time. While the village wasn’t too large, it was quite busy on that day, many people walking in the streets. Did any of them know they were to die that day? As Fulkrome contemplated this, the poe continued to speak.  
  
_”After running through the streets, fighting off monsters and telling people to flee, I saw a humanoid figure silhouetted in the smoke. Thinking it to be someone that may have needed help, I ran towards it, sword drawn in case anything was lurking in the alleys to the sides. One I could see past the smoke, I saw it was no villager standing there, but a man in a suit of armor. I kept running, thinking together we could kill off the attackers more quickly. But then it stuck its hand into a flame, watching his gauntlet turn a yellow-white. It was then I realized I had come across a Darknut. I knew there’d be no way I could stand up to something that powerful, I turned and ran. But it was too quick for me, grabbing me by the neck with its white-hot gauntlet and lifting me off the ground, it laughed at my attempt to fight for the village. As far as I’m aware, I was the last one to die in that town, killed by your hand.”_  
  
The poe turned to look at Fulkrome, the recollection of his last few hours of life wearing him down. _”My name was Dren while I was alive. After my death, there was nothing for what must’ve been weeks. Then all I remember was existing as a poe. After passing into this life, I tried to find my family, with no luck. When I found my home, Himel was destroyed, no signs of anyone there at all, live or dead. Since then I had been searching for my family, and for a chance to get revenge on you. Since the latter is out of my grasp, finding my family is the only thing I have left before I can be at peace.”_  
  
“You don’t think they could still be alive after all this time do you?” Fulkrome asked.  
  
_”I know they are dead. My desire is to find their resting place, so I can be with them again. Perhaps they met the same fate as I did, and wander the land as poes? There is no way for me to know unless I find them.”_  
  
“I don’t know how much help I could be in finding them, but I’ll do whatever I can.”  
  
_”That’s what I was hoping to hear, Fulkrome. Now, it seems it is time to leave this world and return to yours,”_ Dren said as he stood up from the sofa and headed towards the door.  
  
“Wait,” Fulkrome said after the poe, “you still haven’t explained what this place is, or why I am the only one who can see you.”  
  
_”Ah, you hadn’t looked out the windows the whole time during our conversation?”_  
  
“I did not, but I don’t see what that could tell me. There’s nothing out there as far as the eye can see,” Fulkrome said, glancing toward a window in the room.  
  
_”You’d know that wasn’t true if you had looked. The place we’re in right now is your mind. The area we’ve been in this whole time is where your memories are located. As I told my story, I could see the things you remembered about that time. Everything was playing out on the other side of these walls. And as for me not being visible to anyone else, I became a poe with thoughts of vengeance in my heart. Hatred and other feelings toward you have made me invisible to everyone else around me, except for you, of course.”_  
  
“So haunting me is the only way for you to interact with the world now?” Fulkrome asked.  
  
_”I can manipulate things to a certain extent, but aside from little things, I can’t do very much in the real world.”_  
  
“And how am I going to be able to help you find your family? I have no idea where I’d be able to look for them. And besides, you’re the first spirit I’ve seen. My eyes can’t see ghosts.”  
  
_”And that’s how I’ll help you to help me. I can allow you to see lesser spirits, other poes, as long as you wear that necklace you found back at the lake. And now, it’s time for us to leave.”_  
  
As Dren spoke, the door out of the house began to shimmer and disappear completely. The dreary gray landscape was nowhere to be seen, instead a swirling vortex churned right outside the doorway. Motioning for Fulkrome to follow, Dren stepped through the vortex. Taking one last look around the house, Fulkrome walked through the doorway.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Everything was fuzzy as Fulkrome regained consciousness. It was darker outside, the sun about to set. Looking around, Fulkrome saw that no one else was home, the house seeming very quiet. Getting up, he walked out the door into the evening air.  
  
People were still in the streets like they were earlier, the only difference being the few poes Fulkrome could now see floating about in the crowds, drifting lazily around without a purpose.  
  
Dren appeared as Fulkrome looked toward the setting sun, in his original form once again. _”Do not forget…”_ he whispered.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six: Cold Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes: [...] Cold Bones Part 1 (Very Rough Draft, Forgive me)

The twirling mist began to scatter as the Sun crept higher above the horizon. James and his merry choir had fallen mute, their interest in singing superseded by dread, leaving the mood as sombre as could be. There had yet to be a signal from the Rolling Ridge Base. Captain Benjamin was not one to break his promises either. But, knowing what could hide within the deep crevices, the potent mist, or around the crags, even one of the finest of the Knight’s Guild was under fate’s unforgiving thumb.  
  
The men kept busy, their minds fleeting to the simple tasks of twiddling thumbs or whispering worried words silently to one another. Every wind strewn pebble drew them to their feet with swords drawn; more than twice had a wave of embarrassment spread among the men from this flighty disposition. Moments like those were quickly dismissed as ‘never happening’.  
  
Their already strict schedule was far beyond suffocation now, the Sun at dawn already marked their tardiness. Jonathan sat on a stone, having James and Zachary swear to stand at either flank so he could find some sense of safety. Begrudgingly they did as they were ordered, shooting each other looks of contempt for such a frail excuse of a delegate.  
  
“What are we to do if Benjamin does not even signal at all?” The councilman asked, tugging at his sleeves anxiously. “We can’t very well follow them, we can’t risk losing the carriages or having a steed break its leg.”  
  
“Exactly,” James called, trying to brush the mist in front of his eyes as if it were a curtain. “Just give it some more time; this is probably the first any of us has ever stepped into this country. Rolling Ridge might as well be the same size as Hebra’s Hill for all we know.”  
  
“I guess you’re right,” Jonathan straightened his back as if it could save his pride’s posture from its terrible beating.  
  
Ravens nearby began to caw tiredly, the fluttering of their wings echoed eerily among the rocks. It was officially morning on this side of the Mountain according to them; why they were perched this high up no one knew. Rolling Ridge once was the most populated city of Gorons across the entire continent, renowned for the ingenuity of its miners and entertainers. Most people agreed that the Protectorate back in Hyrule would have been a failure if not for these more enlightened ‘Mountain Warriors’. Perhaps Benjamin had taken to a rest inside one of the many abandoned homes.  
  
The figure of eight more hours until they reached Nuun was starting to be prayed to be more like ‘it cannot take _that_ long to get to the Highlands and back to Hyrule, can it?’.  
  
With the morale steadily spiralling into gloom around the camp, a loud bellowing horn sounded from somewhere in the distance. Immediately the knights sprung up from their posts, cheering and jeering one another for being prepared for failure. Zachary and James left their guard as quickly as possible, hitching up their horses for the trip down the misty path. The councilman did not seem to join in as joyfully at the sound of their Captain’s success.  
  
“That certainly did not sound like the Convoy’s si-,”  
  
“Nosing around the grounds? What cheery lot is this, Bronzen?” A very rough voice came from the descending path, quieting the celebrations swiftly.  
  
“Seems to be a bunch of those Hylians from down the Hebra,” a rotund Goron came into view, a large rucksack hanging off one shoulder, sagging like it was filled with stones. It probably was. Slung across his other arm was an unnecessarily large maul, a powerful war hammer. The head was heavy and round, forged from iron to be able to break apart sledge. In its opposite direction was a long spike that glistened with Goron mined diamonds, the sharpest edge known in the Kingdoms. Whoever this warrior was, he was certainly skilled enough to carry one of the infamous Gorauler Hammers so casually.  
  
Knowing the distaste that Gorons universally held for his people, and the stories of the savage ‘Gorauler’ Gorons, James began to draw his blade. The owner of the voice stepped out from the fog and laughed raucously. This Goron was a bit taller and older looking, a strange sight, even for many of the knights who had never had a close look at Mountain Warriors before. This one carried nothing, but his lack of weapons was made up by his intimidating muscular build. His hands were bound with dirty wrappings, the sign of a labourer in the Protectorate.  
  
The taller Goron watched James try to covertly arm himself. “Don’t worry about us, we aren’t here to crush you into dust, as fun a pastime that can be,” he held out one of his massive wrapped hands, the tattoo of the Ruby dark on his wrist. “The name’s Dolomire,” he flashed a toothy grin as if the men should have immediately fawned over him. A few confused looks were exchanged and Dolomire pulled back his greeting. He knew it was silly to think a Hylian would try to shake hands with someone so strong, at least by comparison.  
  
“I thought from all of the wars of words, Basyle would never tell his men to walk across Goron Territory,” Bronzen spoke with a rumbling tone, folding his arms after readjusting his pack. He seemed more dignified than what parents had told their children about the Mountain Warriors who carried Gorauler Hammers. They were named in such a childish fashion for the Gorons who used them in times of war; their destructive power was feared by all nations. Almost unanimously, those who used them were brainless brutes, renowned for their strength rather than their intelligence, and their savagery rather than their pity.  
  
“We’re only passing through here to meet with a Convoy from another kingdom,” Jonathan was shaking like mad, all his prior experience with Gorons rendered him a shell of a conversationalist. “ _King_ Basyle wishes us to meet Ashtar and bring him back safely to the Autumn Festival.”  
  
Dolomire looked at Bronzen, and the latter back to the former. “I guess the fellow with the Guild Arms wasn’t pulling our chain. I was surprised that he left you little men here. Brigand’s Peak still has a few desperate souls willing to cut a man’s throat for some rations.”  
Bronzen assessed the muddled response from the crew of men standing idly in front of him. “Your Captain showed us great respect and gave us a great kindness. He had a satchel of Goro-Bucks and some finer rocks on his person should he meet an ill fallen Goron on Rolling Ridge. That makes him a smart man,” Dolomire gave his comrade a small shove at this and guffawed.  
  
“Not that we really needed those things, but in exchange we agreed to help you lot out,” the taller one took a large bite out of a stone and proceeded to give orders. “Your Captain has asked us to give you guys the grand tour, Bronzen and I hike these paths all the time. Just unhitch your horses and pass us your carriages, we’ll give’em a break.”  
  
Jonathan skittishly raised a hand, to protest being carried in a cart by a Mountain Warrior.  
  
“You must be Sir Jonathan,” Bronzen approached the pale councilman and gave him a sound pat on the back, nearly knocking him over. “I was told you had to walk with the rest of the men, no more free rides.”  
  
“That’s preposterous!” He fumed, suddenly gaining back some courage now that respect for his authority was finally being openly shunned. “You expect me to meet with the Ambassador in tattered clot-,”  
  
Dolomire laughed as he heaved one of the carriages over his shoulder, balancing it delicately like it was a serving tray. The knights applauded his strength and the massive Goron bowed, unceremoniously allowing most of Jonathan’s belongings to fall out onto the ground. Cups and a small mirror shattered against the hard stone while the remainder of his clean clothes swaddled up the dark soil.  
  
“Benjamin told me that you would get a bit sour, but everyone else has to meet this famed Ashtar with rags and sweat on his brow,” Dolomire began to descend the path, calling back to Jonathan an ultimatum. “Bronzen has some free space in that satchel of his, if you can’t walk like a real man shoul, we can carry you like a child.”  
  
Jonathan flustered, trying to come up with some kind of response to this. But after the more timid knights began to chuckle at Dolomire’s forward approach, the councilman surrendered himself to the idea. James and Zachary looked back at the defeated delegate and smiled, maybe Gorons weren’t as bad as they’d been told; maybe Jonathan could still learn that out here they were all equal. Whatever killed the First Convoy would not care for who had what title; deep down the councilman had to know that.  
  
There was no shame in fearing Death, not out in the wilderness. But having two Gorons at their side, the men could not help but feel a little more invincible than they had ever imagined.  
  
***  
  
Klaus still had a wobble in his step. His robes wept blood each time he overworked his back, but discomfort could only hinder his work for so long. Reports on his desk were hastily piled together in a sorry form of organization. Many of the foreign ambassadors had already arrived and several criminals were still listed as highly dangerous and possibly mobile in the Capital.  
  
It was just his luck that nothing could go on in Hyrule without someone gutting the man beside him in protest. So what was the Royal response to this? Klaus had to do his own form of gutting. In a few hours three more criminals were to be executed for the general public. Each was a thief of varying skill and voracity, all sought out before the Festival could begin.  
  
Whether this was the destined time to be rid of these criminals or if it were feeding the crowd’s need for violence for a little less calamity at the Banquet, he could not be sure. Klaus was not truly the one who controlled these executions. He was the man to sign convicts in and out of the prisons, condemning them to death or to life deep within the Shadow Temple. Maybe if he did not spend all his time being a signature he could get things done. Things that actually mattered.  
  
King Basyle would only tell him ‘that with time, the people will realize their own wicked tendencies’. If only he had half of his monarch’s faith in the people of the Capital city and beyond; if only there weren’t the likes of William Desesperacion, men who felt little pity in mayhem and death. He knew as High Cleric and Advisor that he would have to combat these personal convictions of his people, as difficult as it was proving to be. Klaus swore as he broke another pen tip, this one spilling ink across all of his documents.  
  
In an outburst of frustration the Advisor swept his arms across his desk, sending all the papers flying and his record books softly thumping on the carpet. Stopping short of flipping his table, the searing pain of his back wounds gave him a direct ticket to his chair. Dark and dirty blood dripped out onto the floor, collecting with much older stains he had not bothered to clean. His temper would get him nowhere, but the stress from the Kakariko incident, the slain Convoy, and the general planning of the Festival were beginning to wear him down. Mable would have his head for not requesting more treatment.  
  
Klaus rested his head upon his hands and rubbed his eyes. He would have to clean himself up soon enough; being covered in blood prior to the execution might give the wrong impression. With the likes of Desesperacion and his unknown accomplice lurking around, there were several hired guards to protect the Advisor during his business in the Square. If anyone made a hostile approach, even with words, towards the High Cleric, they would be dealt a severe penalty.  
  
The Advisor had it set in his mind that he did not need a personal guard; he was trained with a blade and, though an advocate against them, had many offensive spells at his disposal. Would someone foolishly attack a man who could deliver the very essence of spite? Even the most sheltered individual in Hyrule knew the dark side of Klaus’s knowledge of spells and potions, for it was one of the most spoken sins for his potential removal as High Cleric. Yet even the holy men had been stripped of good intentions, wishing his position as Advisor and their leader to be lost, it would be the clerics who swarmed to replace him.  
  
Basyle had warned him of the dangers of his ‘young retirement’.  
  
“I would rather see you at my side until the Black Sunset than have one of those hard hearted old crones be my aid,” this was a line the King would often deliver after a less than intense council meeting. Most of these meetings were spent listening to old men who often forgot what they were voting for, proposing, and, to raucous laughter afterhours between King and Vassal, their own names. It felt disrespectful to be so sour towards these esteemed aristocrats, but Klaus had learned a very important lesson over the previous years. If King Basyle wills himself to withstand the company of otherwise incompetent politicians for Hyrule’s sake, any sane man who holds similar ground is allowed the occasional jest at their expense.  
  
It was a powerful rumour that these old men had their fair share of gossip about Basyle and Klaus. Mable had told him this during one of his scheduled visits, ending her story with a sly but sealed smile. Apparently what was being whispered in the halls after each conference was a shy on the blushing side. Empty words from tired men destined to be replaced each generation.  
  
“Klaus?” a gruff call came from the archway of his study.  
  
“You may enter, just let me clean these things up,” the Advisor rushed to collect his fallen work and placed it chaotically upon the varnished desk. It was Thomas, likely making his rounds for the latest information Klaus had for him about the Knight placement at the Autumn Festival. Klaus could have sworn he had paid to run the security side of things for Capital events. “Right now I have not had a chance to review your charts; today’s public execution has been a terrible burde-,”  
  
“I’m here just as messenger boy for the Old Man,” the Captain wiped his brow, beads of sweat provoking him. The ‘Old Man’, Basyle, felt it was still appropriate for the Knights to wear formal attire no matter the weather; a light chainmail could become a device of torment after hours of wearing it. “We received a message that Orilieus should arrive by the end of your execution today, he’s hired a few Gorons to be his personal guard. The people have already begun to gather in the square, throwing rocks at the men on the scaffolding.”  
  
“Wonderful,” the Advisor ignored the news of the mob mentality of the Capital’s population. Rocks were the least of his worries as a few years prior some very inspired townsfolk had burned the execution platform down to the ground. At least it saved him from having to do the killing. Klaus reached his hand out, only hesitating for a moment, and retrieved his potions case. Satisfied it was packed with all his ‘necessities’, he handed the case to Thomas and directed him to the large oak door. “Make sure Orilieus’s men are treated just as honourably as the Chief himself. Maybe we can get the Protectorate Elder warmed up to the idea of trading with us again.”  
  
_A hopeless endeavour to be sure._ He thought silently.  
  
Thomas sighed; politics were the least of his concerns. He was very near to retirement from the Knight’s Guild altogether for now he was only responsible for training the new recruits. Captain Benjamin would be his replacement the moment proud Thomas removed his helm. At least he would be if he returned in one piece. Klaus shook his head at the thought, sentencing men to certain death was far more difficult than doing the actual reaping.  
  
“I’ll need to make a short stop with Mable before we leave, you may go gather the others,” he removed his heavy robes and hung them outside the strong mahogany doors. Klaus’s undershirt was stained red, receiving a very concerned look from his older comrade. “It’s just a flesh wound, not a lot to worry about.”  
  
The Advisor began to go his separate way only to be stopped by a short call from the Captain.  
  
“I always knew you were hiding something useful behind all those papers and fancy clothes, Klaus,” Thomas gestured toward the decorative sword hanging on his side, a blade envied by all the Knights. It was crafted as gift for the first Advisor by the old Gorons, long before a Protectorate was a glint on a dreamer’s eye. Over the generations it was often swapped as the great treasure of either the current High Cleric or the Advisor of the King. As ancient a blade it was, it had yet to see the taint of blood.  
  
Startled for a moment, Klaus removed the scabbard from his side. He had grown so accustomed to it being on his person that he often forgot it was a constant companion.  
  
“How about you take care of this for me for a while?” he passed over the golden hilt to his aging Captain. Thomas smiled and held it like a newborn baby.  
  
“It would be an honour, Klaus,” he slung the scabbard over his shoulder and carefully balanced the potions case in the crook of his arm. “Your carriage will be ready in a few hours, just try not to gossip too much with the old broad,” the two men nodded in agreement before taking their leave. Klaus decided to drape his hung dressings over his back as a last minute attempt to try to hide the sickening stains on his undercoat.  
  
Walking down the ancient corridors of Hyrule Castle, he felt a tad strange without a sword at his side. There was a solace to it in the end, after all a sword wouldn’t do him any good against the cutting words of a disappointed Mable.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven: Partners in Grime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Yazstromo
> 
> Original notes: Well, I can't think of any more reason to hold off this next chapter. Enjoy!

The wind carried the scent of what could only be described as damp stone to Orilieus’ nose as his carriage pulled up before the now-open gates to the Goron Protectorate and the mass of rocky bodies just within. The Master of Kakariko chuckled at the spectacle. “Just like Gorons to take a simple request for bodyguards and turn it into a theatrical extravaganza involving the whole populace.” He shook his head and sighed. “I imagine I’ll have to wait until they’ve all had their fun before I can continue on to the capital. May as well sit back and enjoy the show.”  
  
***  
  
“So is that it, brothers? Is there nobody else out there who can best us in the ring?” The taller Goron grinned, looking out over the cheering crowd while his stout companion posed beside him. He turned and looked at the carriage that had just arrived. “If that’s the case, then I guess that means we’re the strongest, hmm? I suppose us two will head off and keep the soft-skin from the village from hitting his head on the journey to their castle. Although it’d take just one of our smallest Gorons to handle anything that could be thrown at him, am I right, brothers?” The audience’s response could have been heard from a mile away, such was the din that they made, roaring with passion and stamping the ground, their mighty feet spreading cracks through the hardened stone beneath. The tall Goron clapped his hands to his chest in farewell, and turned to leave.  
  
“Not so fast! You have one last challenger!” The entire crowd, as well as the two wrestlers, turned to face the source of the challenge; though, for many, it was out of surprise of being able to hear anything through the clamour at all. Standing amidst them were two heavily clothed Gorons, one standing tall and pointing a gloved finger toward the wrestlers on-stage, the other standing just behind him, attempting unsuccessfully to not stand out. The crowd’s surprise quickly turned to bewildered amusement. These two Gorons, not particularly impressive of stature and significantly over-dressed, at least compared to the clothing most “civilised” Gorons wore...and they wished to challenge the champions of the day’s event?  
  
The stout Goron guffawed, prompting a few in the audience to snicker as well. “You, challenge us? Look at’cha! Yer puny! Me grandmamma could sneeze on ya and ya’d crumble!” More of the crowd began to join in with the laughter, prompting the shorter of the two newcomers to sink a little in his jacket.  
  
The first one, however, stood tall and continued. “Is that so? I take it, then, that your grandmother also received top secret training from Dolomire?”  
  
At this, the laughter was replaced with a collective gasp, and murmuring. “Dolomire...THE Dolomire...unbelievable, these two...DOLOMIRE...” The tall Goron, curious now, called out over the muttering audience. “I’m sorry, little brothers, but I don’t believe I’ve seen you here in the Protectorate before. Your names are...?”  
  
“Names?” Yazstromo gulped. I knew I’d forgotten something, he thought. Pausing a moment, he then punched his fist into the sky, doing his best to look impressive. “I am the brawn with the brains, the king of the ring whose, uh, name you can sing! Yaz...goron! And this is my sterling sidekick with...fists of...sterling silver! And is also a king who...likes to fight people. King Dae, umm...Daedongo!”  
  
The tall Goron raised an eyebrow. “Yazgoron and Daedongo? Never heard of you. And I’ve definitely not seen you in the Protectorate.” Yazstromo smirked, before realising nobody could actually see him smirking.  
He compensated by letting out his most masculine laugh.  
  
“Of course you haven’t! That’s because we only just got back. From our secret training. In the mountains somewhere. With Dolomire.” The shorter Goron stamped his foot on the arena in annoyance, Daedus wincing inside his costume. Fortunately, nothing happened.  
  
“No way! Dolomire wouldn’ train you claybrains! He’d only train real wrestlers, an’ real wrestlers wouldn’ wear big stupid outfits like that! All that clothing just gets in the way!”  
  
Yazstromo laughed once more. “Exactly, my good fellow! That’s why we have all this clothing on; as part of our training. To get the most out of his teaching, Dolomire trained us to fight while being burdened down and restricted by all of this. Only by shackling our bodies could we free our minds...or something. But enough of this banter. We’re Gorons, and we like to fight, apparently! So let’s get to it...unless you’re too scared of our secret training. With Dolomire.” Another gasp rose from the spectators. The two Gorons on stage hesitated, before turning around and whispering to each other.  
  
“Ya don’t suppose these two actually got trained by THE Dolomire, do you?” The taller one shook his head.  
  
“No, brother, there’s no way. I couldn’t even get the champ to train me, and that’s before he went into seclusion.” He snorted quietly. “I honestly think your grandma COULD sneeze them into the ground, so I say we just get this over with, as unfair a fight as it would be.” The short one nodded, and they turned back to face the waiting bystanders. “Very well, then,” the tall Goron bellowed. “We accept your challenge, Yazgoron and Dae-whatever. But be prepared to drag yourselves back to the mountains you came from!”  
  
As the two challengers clambered into the ring, Yazstromo whispered near where Daedus’ ear was. “Remember, my boy, for you, it’s left, spin, back, and stamp. Try to make it look a little authentic, and hopefully we’ll be on our way to the castle before afternoon leaf juice.” Yazstromo helped his companion to his feet, before looking up at their competition. The stout Goron placed his knuckles on the floor in front of him and bared his teeth at Daedus, while the tall Goron just cracked his neck side-to-side, before addressing the pair.  
  
“Let’s make this a nice, quick bout, eh, little brothers? First pair to get knocked out of the ring wins.” His entire body tensed slightly, and then...”FIGHT!” Yazstromo quickly leapt a step to the right, barely missing his opponent’s opening lunge. However, the tall Goron quickly compensated, spinning on the ball of one foot. Yazstromo did the same, before jumping back, landing just at the edge of the ring. The tall Goron laughed. “Guess your time’s up, little brother.” In response to this, Yazstromo merely threw his hands forward into the Goron’s chest and stamped the floor just beneath his right foot...triggering the mechanism built into the arena earlier in the day, dropping a lead weight attached to a series of pullies...that jerked down one end of the plank of wood the Goron was standing on, quickly turning it into a makeshift catapult...launching the Goron into the air, with Yazstromo still cradling his chest, and following through as the Goron flew over his head and out of the arena!  
  
Yazstromo turned around to make sure his opponent hadn’t hit the rock behind him too hard, before looking to see how his partner was faring, or rather to see how badly he had messed up the plan. For the meanwhile, as the wizard expertly executed their agreed-upon choreography, Daedus was, unsurprisingly, panicking the second the fight started.  
  
_Umm, right, left, forward, back, spin...oh gods, what was next?!_ The stout Goron loomed over the timid man as he fell to the floor in terror. _Then...stamp! Floor panel! Where is it?_ He threw his hand behind him, slamming the arena behind him as the Goron brought his hands over his head. As Daedus punched the floor one last time, he felt a click, and looked up as...confetti exploded from in front of him.  
  
Fortunately for Daedus, the confetti launcher was positioned in such a way as to shoot the coloured bits of paper into the Goron’s now-exposed face, blinding him. “Argh, my eyes! Who knew my eyes would be so sensitive ta’ getting coloured bits o’ paper shot into dem?!” He stumbled around, clutching at the air around him, trying to find Daedus. He came to the edge of the arena, wobbling precariously, throwing his arms out for balance. A small glint shot out from inside Daedus’ jacket towards the Goron...and he finally fell to the ground with a thud.  
  
Yazstromo strutted to the centre of the arena. Facing the crowd, he paused for dramatic effect, before throwing his arms into the air victoriously, to the sound of...complete silence. Puzzled, he glanced over at the dumbfounded crowd, before stamping the floor beside him, causing another burst of confetti to fly into the air...and the crowd went wild! As Daedus shakily managed to stand up next to the older man, Yazstromo yelled to him just loud enough for him to hear. “See, there’s two things I’ve learned over the years, my boy. First, people will cheer for anything if there’s confetti involved.”  
  
Daedus gazed in awe at all the Gorons cheering...cheering for him. “And the other thing?”  
  
“Always have a backup confetti button.”  
  
***  
  
As the two new champs finally sauntered over to the carriage (after receiving many a congratulatory thump on the back from the Gorons), Orilieus stepped out and applauded.  
  
“Well done, gentlemen! An excellent show! I’m amazed you Gorons don’t put on bouts for the rest of Hyrule more often. The Protectorate would make quite the number of Goro-Bucks from the ticket sales alone.” He shaded his eyes as he looked up at the sun. “Although I daresay the length of the proceedings would prove a major downside. We’d best get going if we’re to make it to the capital before nightfall.”  
  
Daedus nodded in agreement, and proceeded to climb into the conveniently large carriage, followed by Orilieus. As Yazstromo was about to follow suit, a pang of realisation struck him. “Oh my...dreadfully sorry, Master, but before we go, I need to quickly grab a few incredibly important items from back in the Protectorate.”  
  
Orilieus harrumphed. “Very well, Goron, but if you could do your best to retrieve them in an expedient fashion?”  
  
“Of course, sir, of course, I’ll be gone for the thinnest wafer of your most esteemed and valuable time. As quick as a bolt of lightning if it had to get where it was going in an incredible hurry. If said lightning, say, had a carriage to take to a gathering in a distant castle in only a few hours, rather than travel through the sky, as lightning is wont to do. And the lightning was burdened by two rock-people, one of whom had to waste the lightning’s precious time by turning around to retrie-“  
  
“Now, Goron?”  
  
Yazstromo nodded, and quickly dashed off back up the hill towards the Protectorate, at a pace faster than that of your typical Goron. And, Daedus thought, faster than that of a man more than 500 years old.  
  
***  
  
“Nurse, I am here to...arrest that dangerous criminal you have lying in that bed!” The Goron nurse and the Scribe both looked up to see a well-dressed Goron holding a large sack in one hand.  
  
“Excuse me, Goron? I am no criminal, and I take offence at the accusation.” Darius indignantly stared at the strange visitor, before turning to his right to see the nurse beside him nodding appreciatively.  
  
“A dangerous criminal, eh? Not surprised, not surprised...the trouble this one has been causing trying to escape, I should’ve put it together myself earlier.”  
  
“Not to worry, I’ll be taking him off your hands right now, and taking him straight to their capital. Quite the bounty on his head...big Goro-Bucks in it for bringing him in. Of course, I’ll have to confiscate his personal effects as well.” Yazstromo began stowing Darius’ belongings in the sack.  
  
“You don’t say...well, anything I could do to help? Maybe for a small...finder’s fee, brother?” The nurse winked slowly at him.  
  
“Well, now that you mention it, my journey would be a little easier if the prisoner wouldn’t squirm.” Yazstromo reached into the sack and pulled out a small pouch of Goro-Bucks. “Now, I’d do it myself, but I’m not a trained medical professional...”  
  
The nurse waved his hand to cut him off. “Say no more, brother: One sedative coming right up.” He then gently smacked his fist into Darius’ head, knocking him out cold. Yazstromo laughed and threw the Goron the small pouch, before opening the sack again. “Now, in your expert opinion...he can fit in here, right?”  
  
***  
  
After dragging the sack out of the Protectorate and carefully lifting it on top of the carriage (showing a remarkable amount of strength on his part), Yazstromo climbed into the carriage and sat next to Daedus, across from Orilieus, shutting the door as it proceeded to wind its way down the dusty trail. The silence that followed hung on the air, draping over the two “Gorons” like a shawl of awkwardness. Yazstromo shifted in his seat, attempting to get comfortable. Orilieus coughed. Daedus just sat there, twiddling his thumbs together, looking out the window and seeing nothing of interest. He could feel Lewis nodding off inside his jacket. _This is...so...boring_ , he thought to himself.  
  
Something else in the carriage agreed with him, and proceeded to try and liven things up. A quiet bubbling began to be heard, and a puzzled expression appeared on Orilieus’ face. “I don’t mean to alarm you two, but...your skin is starting to smoke.”  
  
Daedus started as Yazstromo looked down at himself, and exclaimed, “Oh no...the bathtub slime...”, and in a matter of moments, both his and Daedus’ disguises melted away into nothing, but leaving two old men (and, strangely, their own clothing) completely intact.  
  
Daedus started stammering. “S-s-sir, we c-can explain...”  
  
The Master of Kakariko, deaf to anything being said to him, murmered to himself. “It cannot be...” He squinted, then jumped as if seeing a ghost...or someone who by all rights should be a ghost. “By the Prophet’s beard! You’re...well, the Prophet!” Yazstromo blinked, then looked down. stroking his whiskers.  
  
“Well, I’ll be...you’re an exclamation now.”  
  
Orilieus burst into a wide beaming smile, splitting his face from ear to ear, and began clapping jubilantly. “Yazstromo, THE Yazstromo, Scholar, Prophet, First Advisor...in my carriage! Over 500 years, and he appears in my carriage, of all places!” He almost started bouncing in the seat, so immense and uncontainable was his glee. “Unbelievable! The Prophetic Ones, walking among us! Impersonating Gorons and beating them in wrestling contests...in my carriage!” Yazstromo chuckled, stroking his beard. _Oh good, I have a fan._  
  
Orilieus then looked at Daedus. “And his travelling companion, surely a man of great wisdom and courage, to be blessed with walking alongside the Prophet himself! In my carriage!” Daedus looked flustered at all the attention being thrown in his direction, and began stammering again. “Who, me? I’m nobody, really...I just...met him, and-“  
  
“Nonsense, good sir, nonsense. You must be a man of inestimable character, full of some quality worthy of accompanying the Prophet of old! Oh, how fortune has smiled on me, just a humble Master of Kakariko Village...in my carriage!” As he went on, Lewis let out a small metallic sigh. _Oh good, he has a fan._  
  
***  
  
Eventually, after a few hours’ travel, the carriage finally pulled up before the gates of the Old Capital, the immense Hyrule Castle Town lying just within the shadow of the Castle itself. The door on the side of the carriage opened and a stooped, bearded man stepped out. “Well, Master Orilieus, while I thank you for your company thus far, I would love it if my friend and I could take a short respite and tour the town by ourselves?”  
  
“Of course, Prophet, of course! I wouldn’t dream of saying otherwise! But if you could meet me at the Castle by nightfall, I would be eternally grateful if you and your companion would be my guests at the debriefing tonight and the Royal Banquet in a few days. I am sure that the King would be most interested in meeting a Prophetic One in the flesh, and especially one who has done so much for our kingdom as the First Advisor...oh, and I’m sure the current Advisor would be thrilled to meet his predecessor as well!”  
  
“Of course, Master, of course! Daedus and I would be happy to join you. After all, I’ve never been one to turn down a free meal!” At this, Orilieus and Yazstromo laughed. “Now, if you’ll excuse us?” And with that, Yazstromo and Daedus entered the walls of the Old Capital.  
  
Shortly after the two had left, Orilieus’ thoughts were interrupted by a yell from the carriage driver, who was busy unloading the luggage from atop the carriage. “Master Orilieus, there is something moving in a sack up here!” Orilieus turned, frowning. “A sack, I don’t remember needing anything in-“. He stopped. “Wait...one of the Gorons...Sir Yazstromo had a sack! Quickly, man, get it down and open it!” The driver proceeded to lift the sack off the carriage and drop it to the ground with a soft thud, and a muffled yell. Orilieus bent down and opened the sack. He looked in, and immediately gave a start. “...Darius?”  
  
***  
  
The two old men ambled through the crowd at a leisurely pace; Daedus being nearly overwhelmed by the bustle of the Old Capital’s thoroughfare, Yazstromo just drinking in the sights and sounds of human civilisation. Lanterns swayed in the late afternoon breeze, streamers decorating many buildings along the streets. People of all shapes and sizes, many dressed in golden-dyed finery, treaded the cobbled walkways of the town, going about their business in preparation of the night’s festivities. Most of the decorations for the Festival had been prepared, it was sure to outmatch the only other Yazstromo had seen, in more ways than one.  
  
Eventually, the two of them found themselves amidst a cluster of food stalls, the smell of various fried goods wafting their way to Daedus’ nose and making him salivate. Yazstromo, too, was enjoying the smell of proper food, when he paused. He glimpsed a face for just a moment, a face that brought back memories, centuries old...but surely it can’t have been her? He scanned the crowd, trying to find it again, before giving u- there! It was her! And another face came into view...and a third! Yazstromo gaped, flabbergasted. “Amazing...familiar as I am with random chance, there is a definite line between coincidence and fate...” His mouth curved, forming the barest hint of a frown. “This cannot be a good sign...” Then, instantly, his face turned upside down, and he flashed a wide, toothy grin. “Oh well, I may as well go with it!”, and he strolled briskly towards the trio standing by a fried fish stall, Daedus standing in place, looking at the events curiously.  
  
“500 years, and the first time I leave the house, I just have to run into you three menaces!” Tap, Naomi and Kaz, busy haggling prices with the fishmonger, turned to look at the commotion.  
  
At once, Tap squealed in delight. “Yazstromo!” He held his arms open and she bounded into them, hugging the once-Prophet as he chuckled.  
  
Kaz smiled as he followed Tap. “Old man, long time no see!”  
  
“A long time indeed, Kaz, my boy! Too long, in fact! Centuries, if you will,” he agreed, as he shook Kaz’s hand. “And if it isn’t everyone’s favourite Rito captain! A pleasure as always, Naomi, my dear.”  
  
“Aye, Yazstromo. It’s good to see you after all this time.” Naomi gave him a short and conservative hug, before stepping backwards.  
  
“Oh, and what would a reunion be without a little gift?” and Yazstromo pulled a small box out from under his robes. “Fudge, anyone? That Orilieus fellow gave me some. Turns out he’s quite the expert on our little adventures we went on. And after our trip together, I imagine Daedus is well versed in them now, too...assuming he paid attention. Daedus, come and say hel- come, lad, what are you doing all the way over there?” Yazstromo beckoned at the timid old man behind him, who was standing a ways back, clutching a small bulge beneath his tunic shirt. He shuffled forward nervously, stopping when Yazstromo clapped him on the shoulder and gestured at the three strangers before him.  
  
“Daedus, I’d like you to meet Tap, Naomi and Kaz. These three are friends of mine from way back, when we saved the world all those years ago. Tap, Naomi, Kaz; this is Daedus.”  
  
Tap nodded. “How do you do, Mr. Daedus?”  
  
Daedus blinked, his grip tightening on his chest imperceptibly. “Umm, good, I think. Thank you?”  
  
Yazstromo smiled jovially, then looked at Kaz, who seemed impatient to ask something. “Wait, you said you came here with Orilieus? As in Orilieus, Master of Kakariko Village?” The old man nodded vigorously, his beard bouncing up and down like a yo-yo.  
  
“Indeed, my boy. Why, are you acquainted with him? Moving up in the world, eh?” He chuckled, then continued. “Yes, we ran into him after a short stay in the...Goron Protectorate, I think it was called, and after a series of fascinating events that I’m sure to tell you about repeatedly later, we were invited to ride with Orilieus on his way here to celebrate the Autumn Festival. Which reminds me, Daedus and I will have to be heading towards the castle soon...something about a meeting of sorts...”  
  
Kaz interjected, knowing how Yazstromo could get when he needed to remember something. Concern laced his voice. “The Goron Protectorate? Yazstromo, you didn’t happen to meet a man named Darius there?”  
  
“Well, now that you mention it, I did run into a certain Darius. Was actually fairly instrumental into what happened back at the Protectorate. I forget what happened to him...” He paused to think a moment, when his head shot up, his eyes wide. “Oh my, I left him on top of Orilieus’ carriage! Oh, I do hope he can find his way out of that sack I stowed him in.”  
  
Kaz barked out a short laugh. “Don’t worry. That man could find his way out of a locked chest sitting at the bottom of Lake Hylia. I guess him being unconscious will delay his search a little longer, so that’s something.”  
  
“Indeed. I’m always glad when leaving people unconscious in a sack turns out to be a good thing.” Yazstromo grinned, and clapped his hands together. “So, you know why I’m here, but I still haven’t the foggiest idea what any of you are up to in Hyrule’s capital. You can give me the condensed version for now.”  
  
Naomi shook her head. “Hold fast a moment, Yazstromo. There seems to be something going on over there. See, the currents of people are starting to move in the same direction.” Yazstromo turned his head around so he could see for himself. It was clear that the foot traffic was starting to follow a singular purpose, with the majority moving further into the town.  
  
“Naomi’s right,” Kaz said. “They’re definitely starting to move in that direction...towards the square in the centre of town.” Yazstromo nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  
  
“Then I guess we should follow them. It would be just awful if we missed any excitement.” He turned back to his friends and grinned. “After all, we’re the Prophetic Ones, right? Excitement is our specialty!”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Murderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zetsuyout

Since arriving in The old Capital Will had taken to spending most of his time in a Tavern. It was near the town centre, perfect such that he could gather a fair bit of information eavesdropping on the gossipy patrons. Also from that particular spot he could hear the crier make his announcements. The man, who only ever came to the Old Capital to do the crying, was a large man in his mid forties. He wore a wide brim hat to cover his bald head and a deep blue coat and waistcoat with silver buttons. He looked like he was more used to being in far cleaner places.  
  
Most of the time the announcements were of trivial matters, at least to Will they were. Mostly he paid very little attention and merely sat and brooded. Yet this time, just after the man had made an announcement pertaining to the approaching Autumn Festival, he cried something that had Will’s attention.  
  
“By the decree of Klaus Russeau, Advisor to his majesty, King Basyle!” he began, “The execution of three criminals shall be held in this town square at precisely six o'clock this evening!”  
  
Klaus was going to be in the Old Capital tonight! In his head Will was already beginning to assemble plots and plans to have his revenge. Klaus was the man who had ruined his entire world, all because of him Will was wrongly labelled a murderer and then Aileshia had died saving him. Yes this man deserved to die, and who better to make it so than he? Will had made up his mind; he stood and walked out of the Tavern. It was already well past noon, he hadn't time to dawdle.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Will watched the soldier from Kakariko walk along led by the service girl who had been arranged to lure the man well away from anyone else. A scent of wine emanated from him. Hidden deep into the shadows of an alleyway, he waited for them to pass before stepping out and grabbing the man by his still helmeted head.  
  
Plate and mail could defend well enough against conventional weapons, however it could do nothing to impede the twist that would break a man's neck.  
  
Will caught the soldier’s body before it could hit the ground and dragged it well into the alley, away from prying eyes. He stripped the man's armour from him indifferently, gathered it into the pile on the cloak Jaros had given him and dumped the body into an old wooden box that looked like it had been abandoned for quite a while and in fact was beginning to rot.  
  
Stepping out again with the armour bundled in the cloak and swung over his shoulder, he noticed the girl was still standing there in her loose dress. She held up the spear the soldier had been carrying, “I suppose you want this too?” she looked at him in a cold unconcerned manner as she spoke, a look that would have chilled any other man.  
  
Will took the spear off her without saying a word; it was an odd looking weapon, shorter than the ones the other soldiers used but the head was longer. It resembled a short sword with a far too long hilt, all the Soldiers that came from Kakariko had ones just like it, though none of the guards he fought there had them, or armour as well made. A more elite group of Knights, though none of them as skilled as a Scribe.  
  
“Thanks,” Will finally spoke, his voice level and uncaring. He pulled a purse out of his pocket and tossed it to the girl, “It was his, I have no use for it. Consider it compensation for robbing you of your next client.”  
  
At that Will turned his back on her and strode off into the night.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Klaus sat reluctantly in the carriage headed for the Platform where he would once again end the lives of men who had killed, robbed, and raped the innocent; it didn't matter so much to him. Not to say he was desensitised to it, no certainly not, it was just a matter of withdrawing himself from it. He doubted he could stomach it all if he did not do so; still he hated it all the same.  
  
The soldier sitting in the carriage across from him was new, he had a fresh face and appeared to feel as jolly about their current proceedings as Klaus felt. He was glad that not everyone seemed to act like barbarians when a man was condemned to death. As they were nearing the platform he could hear the cries and jeers of those who had gathered for another bout of ‘entertainment’.  
  
Klaus shifted the weight of the box on his lap unconsciously.  
  
He glanced out the window noting the unique armour of the guard of the Master of Kakariko, though as he knew they served little purpose if a scribe was with him instead. Mere moments before, Orilieus had caught him having just arrived there himself and had insisted that Klaus allow some of his men to escort him to the execution. Klaus sighed, it wasn't really necessary, there were more than enough guards around him to stop any would-be assassin. Many Knights were out for crowd control, all sworn to the Advisor’s safety. If Thomas truly spun no lies, Klaus hadn’t a man in the Guild against him, a comforting thought.  
He closed his eyes and began shutting everything out again. His wounds were beginning to hurt again.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Will walked silently beside the carriage that held the man who he was about to murder. Murder? No, not murder, his death would surely be just. His trigger finger itched, he was so close but he had to wait a little longer.  
  
When that fool Master, Orilieus had sent him with the other 'guards' to follow Klaus's carriage Will could hardly believe his luck. He had previously planned to sneak off and wait in the crowd for a chance but this was even better. As soon as Klaus stepped off the carriage he would shoot him between the eyes. Will resisted the urge to check on the Magic Shot he had hidden in his pillaged armour. He recalled the days when he once had an opportunity to wear it a hero and not a criminal.  
_There’s no turning back, now,_ he almost lamented.  
  
As the carriage moved up to the Platform, Will's heart began to beat faster. Positioning himself opposite the door he watched as first the accompanying soldier stepped down and then Klaus appeared at the door, looking pained. He couldn't wait any longer. Will whipped out the pistol and pointed it straight at Klaus. The next few moments seemed to take hours. Will didn't say anything, no statement of why he was doing what he was doing, it wasn't necessary; strip him of his disguise and the Advisor would have easily known.  
  
He felt the power build up in the Magic Shot as he saw the soldier notice and jump at him. He grabbed Will’s arm and pushed it down just as he pulled the trigger. William could see the bullet crafted by magic shoot towards Klaus. It hit. The shot flared somewhere on his person, he couldn't quite tell and Klaus fell off the carriage’s steps and onto the old paved street.  
  
Will’s Pistol whipped the soldier, threw him to the ground and stepped forward to finish the job just as the carriage exploded into brilliant blue, green, and red flashes. The blast threw Will back and his helmet flew off as he hit the ground. He quickly recovered well before any of the guards could and grabbed the odd spear off the ground ready to fight his way out.  
  
Looking over at where Klaus now lay, he could not see him moving and a pool of blood was beginning to form around him. _Surely he was dead now,_ Will surmised. He noticed some of the guards beginning to stand and decided that he had best be leaving. As he dashed off into the crowd he heard shouts after him and others calling to help the fallen Advisor.  
  
Will realised he had lost the helmet and hoped no one had recognised him.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Kaz, Naomi, Tap, Yazstromo, and Daedus had just made it to the outskirts of the crowd when the carriage had exploded.  
  
“What the *Navi* was that?” Tap demanded of no one in particular, none of the party made comment to her swearing, it had become a common occurrence recently.  
  
“As if I would know,” Kaz began to reply anyway. “For all I know it could . . . oh, oh no. He wouldn't have. Would he?”  
  
Tap gave him an odd look and was about to say something when Kaz interrupted, “You guys go see if anyone's hurt, I need to go!”  
  
“What . . .” Tap started but this time Yazstromo interrupted.  
  
“We really should go see if anyone's hurt don't you think? You would be a great help then.”  
  
“Uh, okay,” she replied, suddenly feeling several hundred years younger under the wise man's gaze.  
  
“Don't worry, Tap, I'll follow him. I think I may know where he's headed too.” Naomi assured her. “Now go help those people!” she added, jogging away.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Will had managed to get clear of the soldiers for a moment but that would change shortly. He was right about those ones from Kakariko, they were a fair bit tougher than the average soldier. He came across a stable that had been abandoned by just about everyone, bar one stable hand. Will gave the lad a knock on the head and he crumpled to the floor, lucky for him he was still breathing.  
  
Will threw off all the armour he had been wearing and went to go grab a horse, he noticed a Bloodbay already saddled and decided to take it. Quicker than saddling a new one, he would risk it not being the fastest one there.  
  
He burst through the stable door and out into the street, just as three patrol men appeared. Will saw them and muttered, “Damn my Luck!” as he turned away from them and galloped down the street.  
  
At that the three gave chase and Will began to lead them through side streets and alleyways hoping to lose them but his efforts were in vain as they stayed hot on his heels the entire time. The fact that one of them had a crossbow did not ease the problem. Will saw a wagon overloaded with barrels and took his chance, he pulled out the gun again and shot through the axle twice, sending the wagon collapsing and barrels tumbling down between him and the patrol.  
  
Surely he would escape now. Will took another corner, a left then a right, straight into a dead end.  
He could hear the patrol men closing on him again and he realised that he couldn't turn back.  
He looked around himself and realised the wall to his left was only a story high and he didn't hesitate to leap up there leaving the horse behind.  
  
Will found himself on a low roof as the patrol found their way into the alley. He listened to them talk as they suggested he may have run away on foot, and one of them telling another to stay there near the horse. Will watched two of them walk away as they had said and waited for them to be a fair distance away before he jumped down onto the last one and smashed his skull into the ground.  
  
He hopped back up onto his own horse and bolted out off the dead end. He headed in what he believed was the general direction of Tiveri's safe house and managed to find himself riding up behind the remaining two Patrol men. Will didn't hesitate to shoot one of them in the back and he tumbled off his horse but the second was quicker to react.  
  
He haphazardly let a crossbow bolt off in his general direction before jumping off his horse and rolling into cover behind some stacked boxes. Will dismounted also and stood opposite the man on the other side of the boxes.  
  
He pointed his Magic Shot at the stack at about chest height and shot right through all of them, the patrol man had jumped out of cover however and now pointed his crossbow right at Will. He leapt to the side and rolled as the next bolt sailed past him. As he stopped, he pointed the gun at the man and pulled the trigger. The shot hit the man in the shoulder and he flew back into the wall and slumped over.  
  
Not checking to see whether he was dead or not Will hopped back up on his horse and galloped off again.  
  
********************************************************************************  
As soon as he had arrived Will leapt off the back of the Bloodbay, burst in through the door to the safe house and dashed to where he had left the rest of his belongings.  
  
“Bloody idiot!” He cursed his stupidity at not bringing all of it with him. What had he thought would happen? It dawned to him now that all reason had left him as soon as he'd gotten the idea in his head. He cursed again.  
  
“Is something bothering you?” Jaros's question startled Will out of his thoughts, he hadn't seen him sitting in the chair by the window reading.  
  
“Oh, something's come up, I need to leave town.” Will found it hard to be annoyed at Jaros but still a little harshness crept into his voice, “ oh and you can have your cloak back, I don't need it anymore.”  
  
He tried to hand it back but Jaros shook his head saying, “No, consider it a gift. Winter will be here sooner than you realise and you may wish you had it then. I'll tell Naomi and the others you've left.” Will paused momentarily and Jaros continued, “Something tells me you wish to be gone and forgotten from this place already and that our paths will not cross for a while if ever again.”  
  
“Uh, sure thanks.” Will managed. He hastily grabbed the rest of his things, as few as they were, and managed to take two steps towards the door before it was kicked open in his face.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
After securing something for his throbbing headache – the din of cheers and boos coming from the town square wasn't helping it much, and neither was what sounded like fireworks a moment ago - and getting his senses together, Darius had related all that had happened to him to the Master.  
  
Orilieus waited a moment before deciding, “Well I suppose what would be prudent is to find Kazar and ask him to explain this.”  
  
“If he continued following Desesperacion he should be here but we can't bank on that.”  
  
“Regardless, if he is here there's no reason for him to be leaving right now, You should rest a bit more. I'm surprised you don't have a concussion.” Orilieus suggested.  
  
“I would suppose so, alright but I must let the Town Watch know who to look out for.” Darius agreed begrudgingly.  
  
“Then make it so.” Orilieus concluded.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
“Dammit Will!” Kaz yelled as he strode purposefully into the room, “First you pull that stunt in Kakariko and now this. You tried to kill the bloody High Cleric!”  
  
By now Jaros was giving both of them what could be described as a surprised look but neither noticed it.  
  
“You have no idea what sort of suffering that man has caused me!” Will barked in response, and as if to declare he was done with words he whipped out both his magic shots and pointed them at Kaz.  
  
Kaz's sword left its sheath in an instant and sliced both pistols in half before Will had a chance to shoot.  
  
As Will dropped them, each severed half of the weapons exploded into a small ball of flame and smoke filled the room. Using the ensuing chaos, Will leapt up to and out of the open window behind him, dropping down into a narrow alleyway. As Kaz climbed through after him, Will stuck in his monocle and drew his rapier.  
  
“I was wrong; I shouldn't have trusted you so well.” Was the only thing Kaz said before they both leapt in to fight.  
  
As their swords twirled and clashed it was clear that neither was holding back, each of their faces set deadly serious. Kaz led in with a series of strong strokes but Will had no trouble countering those, he seized a moment to break through and ducked down to slash at Kaz's legs.  
  
Kaz quick stepped away from the attack and used the movement to spin around to attack Will’s midsection. Barely getting his rapier up in time to block, Will was put off his guard. He jumped back and away as Kaz followed up that swipe with a quick stab. Will kicked out at Kaz's chest but he managed to bring his sword back to stop that attack with the flat of his blade.  
  
Will pushed off the sword to put even more distance between them, and then threw himself into a flurry of stabs. Kaz managed to dodge or parry all but one of the stabs one just nicking his sword arm, barely enough to draw blood. He swung his sword up through the air between Will and himself; the wild swing connected with Will’s sword and knocked the attack aside.  
  
He took the opportunity to slice down at Will; an attack that could have cleaved Will’s head off if he hadn't jumped back as he did. Kaz wasn't finished yet however and he charged, swinging his sword well. His opponent was only just able to dodge the attacks and a sizeable nick appeared in his hat. Kaz finished the attack by drawing back his fist and smashing it right into Wills monocle eye. Will cried out, doubled over in pain as shards of glass were driving into his eye and blood started to run down his cheek. He looked back up at Kaz and fury covered his face, he ran at Kaz slashing and stabbing his Rapier carelessly.  
  
After dodging a few strikes Kaz managed to lock Will sword with his own. He flicked it up out of Will’s hands and then brought his sword down to cut a shallow gash through his chest and snap the rapier’s blade in half in the same movement.  
  
Will fell back onto the ground, one hand grasping his now ruined eye, the other held his chest. He looked up at Kaz as his sword touched Wills neck, his face plastered with shock. The victor grabbed Will by the collar and hoisted him up just as Naomi ran into the alleyway. Kaz had run far faster to get here than she had.  
  
“Kaz, what has happened here? You almost killed Jaros!” she demanded, she took one look at Will’s bloody face and added, “oh dear . . .”  
  
Kaz answered in all seriousness, “He was the one who tried to kill the High Cleric, Naomi. Did you think that shot could have been anyone else?”  
  
“I . . .” She started but then dropped it, she looked at Will again sadness shown clearly even on her beaked face.  
  
Kaz looked at Will, still keeping a firm grip on his collar, “I thought there was something worthwhile in you, hell, I even believed you weren't to blame for what happened three years ago.”  
  
“The man I killed then was the real criminal.” Will spat out, “But all cause of that man my life has been ruined!”  
  
“So you go to kill him, Validate the sentence?” Kaz didn't wait for a reply, he turned to Naomi saying, “I'll take him to the Gaol, They'll give him some medical help there too I should think.”  
  
Naomi noted that Kaz hadn't suggested that she do anything to heal him, “I'll come too.” She replied and followed Kaz out of the alley.  
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Fulkrome had become accustomed to seeing all the Poes that drifted around the Old Capital. The few that followed people he wondered the circumstances of, but never bothered to look into it. He had his own Poe problems to deal with and didn't want to get caught up with any others.  
  
That mindset changed however, when he saw three people moving down the street. One of them was practically dragging another by his collar, and that man was covered in blood. This victim was not what really gabbed Fulkrome's attention, it was the improbable massing of Poes that seemed to surround the bloody man. All but one of them seemed to give an air of violent intentions.  
  
Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Fulkrome began to follow the group at a distance. If he had one Poe here to bother him, what caused so many to be pulled to him?


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine: Shadows of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes: Forgive me... I will also make my best attempt to edit this shortly.

“I must say, this land is not what I had expected from your tales,” the two Deku were rummaging through yet another clearing, lost among a Forest unforgiving to the Deku Lord’s memory. Lukas had been rather silent since they... dealt with Nightfield. His friend’s rigid form had not given way yet, despite it being several days since they left behind the ruined village. He also would not speak, or eat; even a mere glance was almost too much for him to perform. Jethro continued to grasp how to understand what, to him, was a friendship made in three days, but for his equal he tried to gain the empathy for the decades it was worth.  
  
“No, but I expected a change or two,” the First Lord spoke in a hushed tone, making his comrade jump with fright. “This forest has very powerful magic behind it, so I am not surprised to see it so untamed. From what landmarks I can still determine, it has swallowed most of the land I knew. Perhaps even all of it.”  
  
Deku Lord brushed his fingers on the nearest tree; it too bore the beginning of the sickness they found plaguing the Kokiri land. Nightfield had been a friend for many years, though he had been involved with questionable business before, he did nothing to deserve that fate. The wooden gaze haunted his sleep even still. A powerful sorcerer had inflicted this curse, and the Deku Lord knew very few of those in Hyrule, much of the magic in the Hylians’ blood lay perpetually dormant from the people.  
  
_You... it's been so long... there was a man in a dark cloak with violet emblems. They glowed red when he..!_  
  
Nightfield had given him even more reason to seek out Mervil. But he would not have dealt such a crippling hex to the innocents in Kokiri Forest, would he? He had tried to fish out more information from his old friend, but whatever was left of the Kokiri’s spirit died in their company and what was left could only wail. The Warrior was a hard person to forget, and an easy one to spot.  
  
“I can’t be pointing fingers,” the Deku Lord said abruptly.  
  
“What?” Lukas remarked, puzzled.  
  
“Don’t fret over it, Jethro, I was just lost in old times,” he removed his hand from the ailing tree and pointed where he knew north-east to be. “In order to reach Mervil’s home we need to go that way. If we can find a way out of these Demon Woods we’ll know just how much longer we have to travel. None of these plants are proving useful to me, it is like they have been silenced by the dread bleeding out from the heart of the Forest,” he shook his head, such a beautiful place to be stricken by misfortune.  
  
The Lords took a quick rest by a crumbling old fountain. It was the only piece left of a village even forgotten five hundred years ago. Deku Lord knew not its name or shared any sympathies with the Poes haunting it nearby. Maybe this was all that waited for them, trees and ruins...  
  
When they retrieved their supplies it was near noon, at least that was their best guess. Heading in the proper direction, the Lords raised their hopes as the sound of a rushing river broke the calls of wildlife. The land began to mimic the old hills of Hyrule, and the army of ancient trees thinned the closer the river became. High above, the canopy hardly allowed a trickle of light to fall down to them, but the emerald beauty from before had returned the farther they paced themselves from the Kokiri.  
  
“If you recall, this land has an aquatic race known as the Zora. Their mountain lake feeds the river somewhere up ahead, but most of their people fled during Arivis’s reign,” he finished this as they trekked over another crest, the forest still spreading out in all directions; yet, Zora’s River snaked at the bottom of the steep descent. The trees remained tall enough to blot out the sky, but were sparse enough to show a glimpse of their end far in the distance.  
  
“I would not be surprised to hear they had stayed farther north, where even their waters come from. A shame really, almost an entire race gone from Hyrule, as well as a powerful monarchy,” he continued. “They were a peaceful people, but knew very well how to fight. Although Arivis wielded Fire, it was a wicked and potent dark magic that fuelled it, something they could not stand against.”  
  
He was only able to tell very little of the war with Arivis, much of the time was only relayed to him by the Prophetic Ones who were absent for the initial retaliation by the forces of the Kingdom. With such a menace as Faciss shackled to the Demon’s feet, it was a battle only able to be lost. In the end, the deaths were delivered by two creatures, hiding behind a cruel facade. The Deku Lord tried to think of similar events in Fluvari’s history, but any such thing had long faded from the history books.  
  
Perhaps the petty Garo attacks would be recorded as the largest ‘ruckus’ the Kingdom had faced in centuries. _And that would be bad publicity for me._  
  
“Mervil lived among the high hills of ‘Death Mountain’, quite a fitting place for his residence. The Mountain Warriors, the Gorons, held fast to their city and patriarchy. They are gentle... most of the time, so do not shy away if you see one in Kakariko.”  
  
Lukas nodded, paying more attention to where he was walking as many of the tree roots were rising up out of the topsoil to seemingly try to trip him. At the end of the uneven embankment the forest momentarily gave pause. Before them the murky waters of the River were swift and unforgiving, blocking them from advancing.  
  
“It appears we’ll have to search for one of the land bridges, if any are left...” the Deku Lord sighed, yet another barrier in his way.  
  
“No,” his friend interjected. “We have a bridge right over there.”  
  
In the distant gloom a logged bridge stretched across the expanse of the river, expertly crafted with braces and even decorative spires. Lanterns hung from each of the posts, glowing with a strange flame. The Deku approached the crossing to investigate its condition.  
  
“Surely this was built long before the woods overtook this part of the country, but,” the Deku Lord surveyed the bridge, shaking his head with confusion. “It looks much newer. What point is there to make this in an empty place?” He turned around to see if any ruins lay nearby, but there were none. Yet, into the sea of trees a vague and withered footpath snaked its way back up the hill. It had not been used in some time, but certainly while the Forest stood.  
  
Lukas prodded one of the lanterns, watching it sway back and forth from its clasp. “This is a queer fire, no fuel of any kind I can see.”  
  
“Yes, it carries the light of Din, a familiar magic in this Kingdom,” the First Lord held another lantern, turning it over in his hands. “Someone has been kind to travellers here. Most wizards capable of using such potent Fire would never waste their time on something so modest,” he stepped into the centre of the bridge and gazed downstream where Lake Hylia no doubt rested among the Lost Woods too.  
  
“Someone has indeed been kind, not letting the old Hyrule be left to rot,” he took in a deep breath and motioned for Jethro to join him and his crossing of the river. Was it nostalgia he felt after such a short time away? Or was it someone else’s lingering in this ancient forest?  
  
*  
  
For once in his life he cursed that magnificent Forest. The Deku had finally reached a final clearing in the Lost Woods, the rest of Hyrule sprawling out before them between the trunks of the last trees. They had stuck to the old trail the rest of the way out, finding little else outside of a single crumbling well along the way. It was here they took their final rest and ate the last of their rations. Much of them had been wasted trying to navigate near the cursed Kokiri Village.  
  
“If we continue at this pace we will arrive there at the start of dusk, giving us plenty of time to find lodgings in Kakariko,” the Deku Lord gazed deeply at the rising giant that was Death Mountain in the distance. “Although I must admit, we will be a peculiar sight. The Deku here are shy creatures, preferring to keep within their reign of the Forest. But you must have noticed that they too have fled for a brighter land.”  
  
“You spoke of this place as being a rival in your heart to Fluvari,” Lukas began. “Five hundred years have passed and most of its residents have fled, yet you still speak of it as home.”  
  
“Of course,” he replied, pointing toward the familiar sites of the Mountain and the Capital Walls. “I have lived here as long as I have called Fluvari home. It is the unbridled magic, both the real and the emotional kind, which gave Hyrule a place in my heart. You will eventually understand why, Jethro. Our time here will not be a short one.”  
  
The Lords took their first step into Hyrule Field, glad to feel the strong winds flowing around them. Their walking guide had ended, but it did not matter; this was finally somewhere the Deku Lord could navigate. Looming over them, Death Mountain stained more and more of the skyline as they travelled. Faint echoes of falling sledge could be heard from the Goron Protectorate, its entrance far east of their gaze and knowledge.  
  
Smoke from cook fires drifted into the blustery air from where Kakariko stood, but its face had changed. The high walls of the City seemed queer and out of place, the Deku Lord already began to lament the end of its past rural self. But what else could he expect from the Sheikah settlement? It was destined to thrive under their shadowed watch.  
  
Hard beaten paths wound their way around the hillsides. The soil resembled stone rather than anything else, unforgiving and heavy horse travel cemented what might as well been cobbled roads. They followed the trail many carts wide, bearing down on the walled City before them.  
  
“They say they build walls in peace to prepare for war,” Lukas noted, catching a glimpse of a watchtower being prepared just beyond the gates of Kakariko. “Why is it no one remembers when Fluvari needed none, or why we still need them?” he shared the same hesitation and anxiety for their homeland with the Deku Lord. It was not a practice for the highest ranking Lords to take leave in troubled times, but they continued to assure themselves of the sentries’ ability to counter the Garo interlopers.  
  
They could never forgive their choice if they returned to their Fluvari in ruins, if they returned at all. The vortex that led them to Hyrule would be impossible to find in the vast Lost Woods, and what could have become of Symmetry City in five hundred years? Deku Lord pushed these thoughts away, concerned more with the damaged City wall. _Surely Hyrule has remained in peace, what with the empty and silent plains..._  
  
“Who goes there?” a gruff and tired voice called from the parapet above. An elderly Sheikah Scribe appeared, peeking over the edge and down at the strange Deku folk. “By the order of Master Orilieus this City has been sealed until after the council with His Majesty, King Basyle.”  
  
“May we inquire why?” Lukas replied, studying the features of the Sheikah, a race he had yet to meet before.  
  
The Scribe growled and muttered to himself. He seemed exhausted and bitter toward his post, despite his strong stature and attire. “The criminal William Desesperacion was sighted within the city, helping a very cunning thief,” the Sheikah had been ordered to leave out details of the failed guarding of their Seeking Stone. “They caused more trouble than they were worth, opening the gates and fleeing.”  
  
“Then I suppose there is no reason not to let us in if your criminals have already vacated?”  
  
No response was given and the elderly man disappeared into his tower. A few moments passed and the rattling of massive chains began to fill the air. Slowly, the gates to the City opened. The Scribe walked out to meet the Lords with a smile of all the unexpected greetings.  
  
“It has been a very long time since I’ve last laid my eyes on a Deku,” he pointed to his back at the bustling City. Many knights had been stationed to prevent anyone from leaving without proper clearance. They had their work cut out for them as a small mob had formed already, making crass remarks at the only Scribe in sight. “Our gates are closed to prevent further tampering from those men as we repair the damage to our City and our reputation. Do not think us unkind or unjust. Orilieus ordered that the populace remain as we search for answers.”  
  
“In my experience worse things have happened,” the Deku Lord presented his hand to formalize their greeting.  
  
The Scribe smiled meekly, shaking his hand and his head at the remark. “The Deku of Hyrule have long abandoned their Wood, so as travellers from the many Kingdoms abroad, I ask that you do our City a kindness.”  
  
“We have indeed travelled to great lengths to come to Kakariko,” the First Lord said truthfully. “Many years ago I did business here, so think nothing of it.”  
  
“If you see Desesperacion, even somewhere as distant as Calatia,” the Scribe removed a piece of parchment from his cloak and handed over a likeness of William to Lukas. “Find one of the Sheikah that is sure to be near and apprehend this murderer of many men. Wives and children alike carry a dark heart for him.”  
  
Lukas handed the pictograph to his friend, who took to a fit of coughing. The man on the page resembled one of the Prophetic Ones.  
  
_This can’t be him, the bandit, but..._  
  
“Is there a problem?” Jethro looked legitimately concerned for the sudden ill expression that seized his comrade.  
  
“No, nothing to worry over. I am not used to such... sweet winds anymore,” he lied, and rather badly. But both of his company accepted his answer, patting him on the shoulder.  
  
“Of course there is a reward for his capture, yet,” the Sheikah rubbed the back of his head with unease. “For the shadowy thief, Orilieus has offered the spoils of our Gold Vault, as much as a man can carry.”  
  
Although he had no need for riches, this piqued the Deku Lord’s interest. “And what does this cunning pickpocket look like?”  
  
“We... do not know for certain,” the elder replied sheepishly. “He was a mage of some sort, using magic against the soldiers who gave him chase. He did no more than harm them mildly, unlike his accomplice. The thief seems not as dangerous, but he stole something very precious, making him the higher authority,” he reached again into his pocket and produced a roughly treated paper. Upon it was a hastily made sketch: a tall man dressed in a cloak black as night. “All witnesses agree that this is our man, but who in all of Hyrule doesn’t own a travelling cloak like that?”  
  
The Deku Lord glanced quickly over to Lukas and then back to the two pictures in their hands. _My, my... It seems they’ve been keeping themselves well occupied..._ Nostalgia returned to him again, seeing two faces unscathed by five hundred years. He did not know how, or why, but the urgency to reach Mervil only seemed strengthened. To him, the Warrior was the only one able to make sense of this changed Kingdom. He tightened his grip on the sketched photo, hoping that he would even be offered help.  
  
After some brief conversation, the Deku entered Kakariko City, its gates slamming shut behind them. They said their goodbyes and sought a place to stay. Travel would recommence in the twilight hours. The First Lord wished more answers than questions lay in wait.  
  
***  
  
The last tendrils of sunlight withdrew beyond the forest. Already they had travelled quite a distance from the base of Rolling Ridge, only to face one more ascent to complete the Nuun Highlands and their mission. Among their merry crew the mood had significantly lifted, it seemed foolish not to feel much safer with two Mountain Warriors at their disposal. Benjamin could not blame them, for he had the most doubt and worry as their leader, but Bronzen and Dolomire had too positive a disposition to ignore. Even the cold stare of Jonathan had been broken with laughter during their long hike across Labrynna’s plains.  
  
It was pleasant to see smiles, to hear jests shared despite the weight of their fate looming nearby. They had set up camp a few minutes of travel into the Nuun’s highest hills, where a forest had been allowed to mature for centuries. Within this dark Wood the First Convoy had been slaughtered without remorse. The Captain of the Second winced at the thought, for he had sent many of those men. Now he led even more towards that uncertainty.  
  
After a long deliberation with his men, mostly Sir Jonathan, James, and their Goron escorts, Benjamin had decided the sunset also marked the end of travel for the night. In the morning they would retrieve Ashtar from their agreed rendezvous point, a clearing on the opposite side of the Nuun Forest. Tomorrow would be the very last opportunity to meet the ambassador as he had been instructed to leave when a certain limit of days had passed without Hylian contact. King Basyle would have none of that, and neither would this Captain, too many good men were put into this mission to have nothing to show for it.  
  
Their camp was set up by the river edge, a modest waterfall gushed down the cleaved cliff-side. This area was known for its common quakes, many powerful enough to rip up Din’s earth and create many dangerous pitfalls. Some of these tremors had split the Lynna River into many tributaries. Its source rested much farther north from their current location, but the Nuun was webbed with many small streams, each leading to this one beautiful fall. Benjamin questioned the Council’s assigned meeting place for not being here, a much more convenient and agreeable locale. When he brought this to Jonathan, the delegate merely shook his head and harrumphed, still very discontent at his sudden commoner position under the rule of the Gorons.  
  
Benjamin observed his men from afar, content on spoiling his mood with his thoughts. He sat upon a very large stump, tuning out the comforting and calm flow of the Lynna River, tuning out even the many quickened conversations of the other Knights. Cook fires were reduced to cinders, the aroma of meat drifted far into the wilds, attracting wary scavengers much too scared to approach. The clinking of the pans and many layers of armour made their presence far from subtle.  
  
_What does it matter? If that terrible beast is here there is nothing we can do,_ the Captain pulled his cloak tighter in the cool mountain breeze. It smelled of rain and soon looked it as many clouds descended from Rolling Ridge at their backs.  
  
Apparently the men could sense his agitation, the backbreaking stress he felt at this point. He was responsible for so many of them and there was hardly any hiding his fear for their safety. This feeling was not helped by their darting smiles or uncomfortable waves; they only proved to show that deep down this joyful affair was swimming in regret for each man. They believed they accepted the mission knowing their possible doom, but now with it near completion, it only became more real. More terrifying.  
  
“You aren’t looking too well, Ben,” a concerned voice came from behind. Pebbles were scared off as the bulky form of Bronzen took his fair space of Benjamin’s stump.  
  
“Believe me, this is me trying to hide it,” he wiped his unkempt face, the stiff bristles of his blonde scruff itched at his hand.  
  
“I can certainly share in your troubles; I too have led many of my Tribe to defy Death’s cruel hand. It never has gotten easier, in fact, maybe more difficult,” the Goron sighed, placing a heavy hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “No man should have to send his friends, or his foes, into the unknown, risking terrible outcomes. But some men have to be the brave ones, as much as they’d rather not be,” he tried to coax a smile out of his Hylian counterpart, satisfied to see a cautious smirk.  
  
“I wish I could be made of stone like you, Bronzen,” he lamented, feeling more like a crumbling statue, fate taking sledge after sledge from his body. Benjamin nearly lost himself staring at the sparkling waters with the long silence that followed.  
  
A few flighty raindrops bounced off his gauntlets, Bronzen cursing at the idea of getting wet. The men scrambled for cover, it was bad enough swimming in sweat laden armour that the Gods did not need to make for more trouble. Dolomire approached from the river holding an already pitched tent over his head, much to the surprise of the three men it left behind.  
  
“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked rather nonchalantly, his large bound hands pulling the tent down and stretching the canvas in opposite directions. Benjamin nodded and smiled as the fabric was torn and quickly refurbished into a canopy above his stump; Gorons were always the most hospitable.  
  
After much debate on if the second Goron could fit, Bronzen and the Captain were uncomfortably joined on already limited seat space. Dolomire coughed at his poor scenery, reserved to sitting against the backs of his comrades, staring at the blank canvas.  
  
“The weather is not to turn for another few hours,” the Wrestler began, only Benjamin was aware of their Goron escorts’ real identities, something that would only humble his men further. “Bronzen and I would like to propose a simple extraction of this Ambassador fellow, tonight.”  
  
Benjamin shook his head before giving another thought. “I can’t do that, my men are already prepared for a well deserved night resting. I’d feel much better travelling the forest in daylight, at least then we can see what’s out to kill us.”  
  
Dolomire mused, humming quietly. He let out a deep sigh and continued. “If the massacre of your First Convoy was by the hands of some beast, we’re already too late to keep ourselves a secret. Surely this Ashtar will have his own men at his side, we have much better numbers, and no offense to you, much better fighters,” he nudged Bronzen in the back who quickly confirmed he felt the same way.  
“You already missed the talk, Dolomire, you two may be strong, but ten ranking Knights were killed in that attack without a chance to fight back. I can’t risk the lives of my men just because we happen to be safer with you two.”  
  
“I knew you would say that,” Bronzen added, standing up quickly and nearly knocking their makeshift canopy to the ground. “I’ve heard of your previous strategies in my meetings with Basyle, he thinks of your intellect nearly unmatched in your Guild. With Ashtar’s men returning with us, we don’t need to put many of your men in danger. Surely there is some option that will carry us through, besides me carrying the Ambassador on my back?”  
  
Benjamin nearly waved his hand for them to leave their dreaming plan until his eyes fell upon Jonathan’s shuttered carriage. It was like their Tribe to want to act quickly and as brutishly as possible through any objective. He could not blame them personally for their ambition; it was this very attitude that built their Protectorate. Scanning his troupe for viable men, the workings of a simple plan began to snap together like a puzzle.  
  
“The look on your face tells me you have something promising,” Bronzen was simply fibbing, it had grown too dark to easily see around their stump.  
  
“Yes, I believe that, with your help of course, we can make this happen tonight,” the Captain smirked as Dolomire clapped his hands together, eager to get moving. “We will use the dark to our advantage. Jonathan’s carriage will be used since its windows can be blocked. As he’s officially too ‘important’ to risk, we will have James impersonate him. I’ll drive while you two walk either side. I hope you won’t mind, but a carriage on its own isn’t imposing enough.  
  
“How is that necess-,” Bronzen began, scratching his head in confusion.  
  
“As much as I wish my First Convoy was unlucky, we need to split our assets. Be it a beast that took them in cold blood or a distraught mage, I am technically sworn to Jonathan’s protection,” the Knight explained with a hint of venom. “James is one of the most adept swordsmen in the Kingdom, maybe even better than the Guild Master. It’d be foolish not to have him as our flank.”  
  
A chuckle came from the other side of their canopy before its owner stepped into their company.  
  
“You flatter me too much, Ben,” came the velvet voice of James. “I’ll expect that long overdue knighting when we get back,” he joked, pointing to his Captain’s badge, a gift to all Knights under Basyle’s long rule.  
  
Sir Benjamin smiled and shook on the deal.  
  
It had taken very little goading to have Jonathan strip out of his fine robes and into a commoner’s clothes. At first he whined his usual protest, only to be knocked on his bottom by the impatient Bronzen, an action that quickly reversed his temperament. James reddened and tugged at his queer attire, aware that his shabby appearance robbed any extra credibility these fancy dressings gave him.  
  
A quick debriefing to the other men ended much of the discussion of their plans. Their fake Jonathan settled himself in the dark carriage, its drapes drawn to hide its contents. Benjamin lit four sturdy torches, handing one to both of his Goron companions and securing the others to either side of his driver’s seat. It was all the lighting he could spare physically and emotionally; the camp needed the remaining torches to keep the beasts away, while the Captain felt too much illumination would draw unwanted attention.  
  
Nodding at Bronzen and Dolomire to begin their conquest of the night, Benjamin took his place behind the reins of a single work horse. The bench was the most uncomfortable he’d ever found. If the impulse to drive the horse forward hadn’t already occurred, he might have asked one of the Gorons to rip up his stump for a more suitable seat.  
  
“Are you sure I can’t have a light in here?” James fidgeted, the weight of the night falling very much on his shoulders alone. He wanted the reassurance of something warm, but Benjamin merely shook his head at the small viewfinder they normally would converse through. Even the Captain was bathed in shadow, his torches hardly able to fight back the swelling darkness of a clouded night.  
  
Quick work was made of the calm river, though rains from the north had swelled the depth to nearly snuff out their torches. The soft gush of the waterfall was a momentary comfort; but, it too had to be left behind as the Gorons sought a footpath up the opposite bank. Narrow edges proved harrowing, as Bronzen nearly took a tumble near the crest of the mound. Here the wilds of the Highlands had taken root.  
  
Before them lay waist high grasses waving slowly in the stiff wintry breeze, only with a few muted places where the Nuun hid sunken snares of earth and roots. Deep fissures in the land were well disguised from here on out, no more simple travel fixes. The steep climb towards the imposing wall of Nuun Forest felt like a choking wade through a bog, the black of the night felt heavy, its strength seeming to stifle the glow of their lanterns.  
  
“Mind you, it seemed less of a hike from the bottom...” Dolomire lamented, stopping a few yards short of the entrance of their destination, obviously winded from the difficult hike. These trees had been spared the rusted heads of axes for centuries, the path too dangerous to be worth the price for firewood or building materials. Thick trunks and cascading branches blocked out any light from the outside and any hope of seeing within. Already feeling small and alone in the middle of Labrynna, the grand curtain of the Forest helped only strengthen the minimal outlook.  
  
“This is our last chance to turn back, Benjamin,” the more robust Warrior began, staking his torch momentarily into the soft soil. “I can only imagine these trees have made for worse travel. I’ve visited similar places, it’s very easy to drop off a vine covered edge and never be seen again. But those were a well travelled wood, this is much different.”  
  
The Captain shook his head at the concerns, having already had his mind made up back at camp. “We’re here with an hour to spare by the look of the clouds,” he was lying, it was too dark to see anything other than silhouettes and the unsettling gnarled branches of the Forest, reaching out with their greedy fingers. According to the locals on his past visits to Labrynna, Benjamin was to expect a serene beauty to the Nuun upon the dawn. A welcomed contrast if he could have afforded the wait, or the ability to turn down the advice of hardened war veterans.  
  
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Dolomire found a weary footpath a few feet to the north, just large enough for the carriage to fit through.  
  
The damp and dense foliage clung at the sides of their caravan, tugging it back and forth like spoiled children. James spilled from his seat several times, finding less and less reason to crawl back with each new upset. He knew to expect a terrible travel, just not this abomination of a ‘trail’. The path itself wound tightly around an incline, hiding steep drops just within the bordering shadows.  
  
Even the wildlife seemed fearful of breaking their silent trip, only their faint rustling gave away their presence. The Nuun was known for wolves, the first creatures accused of murdering the First Convoy, but the report from the Labrynians showed their deaths was more akin to execution than simple bloodlust. Mere owls and gentler creatures filled the remaining dominion in this Forest, nothing capable of killing a grown man let alone several. Maybe there was something more here than simple woodland.  
  
Bronzen’s lantern suddenly flared violently, blinking out of sight with a muffled cry.  
  
“Hold!” Benjamin seethed, jerking the reins back as hard as he could. Jonathan’s shuttered caravan lurched heavily on the sharp incline, nearly tumbling off the edge into what could only have been a nasty abyss. He drew his blade quickly and snatched one of the mounted torches into his hand, peering into the black, a cold sweat breaking on his brow.  
  
“Something lurks in the forest,” the voice brought some calm to the Captain’s racing heart. Bronzen spoke quietly from somewhere ahead of them. “Can you hear the branches sway without the wind?”  
  
Birds of prey were unheard of this far from Hyrule and bears remained relatively unknown in Labrynna. Something was moving in the canopy above; that or the suffocating night was beginning to play tricks on them all, as Benjamin only began to hear the shifting trees after a minute of deafening silence.  
  
“We are too close to be spooked, we will not turn with our tails between our legs,” even the mighty Dolomire sounded tense, his eyes darting fervently for anything above them. “Mind, Gorons haven’t had tails for a very long time,” the jest fell flat, especially with Bronzen whose face reappeared like a spectre in the dark, contorted by his lantern’s new flame.  
  
“At the top of the crest we are to expect a straight path to the clearing and hopefully Ashtar’s coach,” James interjected the directions; after all, it had been his task to direct them to the ambassador in the first place. “Sir Jonathan did have a proper map, but someone misplaced it in their... lavatory. Not that it would be any good now,” he smirked, having it lost on the audience who had already taken his words to mean ‘continue’.  
  
The bait councilman returned to his seat before any jostling trouble would keep him from it. Fear of the dark was considered a childish dread, but no man, even the Guild Master, could be expected to feel bravery in this night’s maw. At least that was what each of the four was quietly telling themselves as they neared the rocky crest.  
  
Having finished one of the many stony embankments the Nuun Forest hid, the group felt relieved that their goal was within reach. However the brambles were large and thick here, their thorns nearly immobilizing the workhorse whose loud protest was painful on the ears and an unwelcome call into the dark. Benjamin dismounted from the carriage seat, a lantern in hand to survey the path ahead.  
  
“Looks like no one has bothered travelling this way in years,” Bronzen was shaking his head, holding his light higher revealing a long corridor of the unsightly weeds. “I haven’t seen such an unruly Wood outside our own in Hyrule. There’s no way we can force the horse and carriage through this awful mess.”  
  
“Surely the clearing cannot be that far,” Benjamin scratched his scruffy face, peering up into the black sky, knowing it due to the dark blobs representing the treetops surrounding it. Thunder rolled quietly in the distance. _Terrible weather to match terrible feelings I suppose_.  
  
“No, hardly a trip,” the Wrestler pointed down the long thorny path at a tiny patch of flickering light. “Best place to have a campfire. Really, the only safe place.”  
  
The graven faces of the Mountain Warriors finally returned to their common smirks. Even Benjamin was able to break his nervous bout with a smile, but only shortly. There still remained the trek through the brambles, a difficult and painful hike for all involved.  
  
“We can’t leave the carriage and horse unattended, too easy of a spook; we’ll need them for a pleasant ride back to camp. Certainly Ashtar’s caravan won’t fare any better in this mess,” Bronzen scratched his head and looked to Benjamin for any new plan.  
He mused at the possibilities for a moment before calling to James.  
  
“We’re going to have to continue by foot, Jonathan, this path is too troublesome for our cart,” they waited for a response. When none was given they knew their councilman had understood. Benjamin attempted to hack his way into the blockade with no luck, his sword barely nicked the thick roots; though, he could have sworn they shuddered – perhaps the Nuun had Deku creatures of their own. “Looks like we won’t be cutting our way through. I hope that thick skin of yours is going to hold up,” he shrugged as his comrades did the same, the three of them taking their first steps forward.  
  
“By the Gods,” Dolomire muttered as a sharp thorn dug at his thigh. “I can’t say I like it, but I’ve been through worse,” he flashed his celebrity smile, but Benjamin assumed he actually was making light of his past days fighting outside of a ring.  
  
“We’ll keep quiet from here, in case someone is guarding Ashtar who shouldn’t be,” he pulled down his faceplate, restricting his vision but keeping it safe from any potential harm. “I will signal you when we should reveal ourselves to the clearing. Otherwise we might be walking into a trap.”  
  
“Understood, Ben,” Bronzen’s face was pulled into a scowl as he clasped the nearest barbed branch in their path and ripped it from place. “We’ll try to keep this up, make things simpler for dragging this Ambassador back, whether he likes it or not.”  
  
Benjamin nodded and pointed forward at the flickering fire, its light beckoning them to come closer. Whether the foe that desecrated the First Convoy was there or not, they had no other choice. The Captain embraced his fears, knowing they would not leave him. How he wished to be made of stone.  
  
***  
  
The guard at the Mountain Gate was not nearly as kind to them. After the rookie soldier finished his fun of seeing if ‘Deku were really made of wood’ by poking them, he let the Lords pass into the old Trail. Having learned of the relocation of the Gorons, the Deku Lord was not surprised to see this portion of the mountain devoid of activity, everything that mattered on this heap of stone now rested closer to the abandoned Zora Highlands.  
  
Ancient mudslides marked both sides of the twisting path, frozen solid by the passing of time. With so little traffic this way vegetation began to strangle the rocky walls with lichen and vines. Patches of grass and the odd flower strived valiantly to soak in the last of the sunlight, the warm orange glow slowly creeping away.  
  
“Perhaps dear Nayru has been kinder to Hyrule than the poor Kokiri led me to believe,” the First Lord stepped over a small patch of what resembled heartier poppies and smirked at the new life all around them. “The Hylians have cleaved deep into the Mountain to make their grand City, but they drove away the old beauty of Kakariko. I hope that this is a sign it will return to them.”  
  
Lukas rounded the next turn first, taking a pause at the collapsed ruins of Dodongo’s Cavern. The Gorons had abandoned it after finally mining it empty of the best stone on Death Mountain. There were no guards along this path as the original entrance to their City had been reduced to little else but a storage access. Deku Lord imagined the ancient Elders would be very unhappy to learn that.  
  
“Mervil’s home rests on the far side of the volcano,” he traced the scenery with a jagged path. “It will be rough going, but manageable. It remains one of the only ways to travel into Labrynna. I was lucky before and found a vortex in the Lost Woods rather than having to hike this incredible distance.”  
  
The old entrance to Goron City came into sight, completely unguarded with a mess of railcars dotting the path toward it. Taking the higher route, they climbed a short cliff face and Jethro was surprised to see that there was indeed, another used path out of reach by anyone who was ignorant to it.  
  
“Bandits used to flock to this area, even establishing a small community, much to their bad luck...” he smiled briefly, thinking of the bandits that had ‘befriended’ Death, both marked by him for their poor decisions. “It was not long after Arivis’ siege that they, like thousands of others, fled out of fear. Although they should be centuries gone, keep ready in case some new crooks are calling it home.”  
  
Walking on the uneven stone proved full of perils. Several pressure cracks dotted the landscape, some large enough to stumble into, never to return. Steam from the magma chamber below often billowed from these with some ravines leaking lava in the distance.  
  
“I’m not sure about you,” Lukas loosened his fancy robes; they were more suited to fall weather than anything else. “But I feel a bit out of my element.”  
  
“That is the best part of adventuring, Jethro, feeling lost and feeling anxious. You will get over it soon.”  
  
“I pray you’re right...” the Second Lord huffed, having to leap over a concealed crack lest he scorch his feet. “And what do we do if the Warrior is not there? We will have nothing left to seek, and I am currently not in any mood to be doing this multiple times.”  
  
_Don’t say that..._ Deku Lord worried to himself, keeping a close eye on his strides.  
  
The last tendrils of sunlight withdrew beyond the Mountain, plunging them into an uncomfortable darkness. Above them clouds were forming, ready to make more misery for their journey and anyone beyond Rolling Ridge. A soft glow rose at their backs from the many lanterns and fires within Kakariko City. And to their delight, a soft glow peered out over a small embankment a few dozen yards ahead and above them. The First Lord sighed with relief, who else would have a fire burning this high on the range? Better still, who else would _want_ to live here?  
  
“There we go, just above that ledge,” he directed Lukas to meet his gaze and the two picked up their pace. Wary that if Mervil was causing trouble in Hyrule that he may very well deny them any help -- or worse-- he could not shy away from his only source of information. _Not that he gave me much of that..._ The magic of the Seed continued to elude him, but twenty five Fluvari days were not many spent on research.  
  
Grunting, a noise he did not particularly find becoming, Lukas heaved himself over the last jagged outcropping of sledge. His feet flailed for ground that was not there. Scrambling, he managed to grab the helping hand of the Deku Lord, narrowly escaping falling to his death. A massive ravine welcomed them on the other side, deep and black as the night.  
  
The First Lord helped the Second back to his feet, where a gracious bow was offered as his reward for his heroism. They both knew this was a sad ruse as Jethro was far from a formal fellow. Likely he was forcing himself not to embrace his saviour and shower him with exaggerated compliments.  
  
“It appears he doesn’t want any visitors.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Lukas said in an exasperated voice, his heartbeat still echoing in his ears. The vertigo from looking into the gorge was keeping him from gathering his senses. A moment passed without reply before his friend nodded to what had tricked them into thinking the home was undoubtedly occupied.  
  
A familiar lantern hung from a tall and crooked post, the light of Din glowing happily in the dusk. Farther beyond it the black silhouette of a small shack rose from the earth, its entrance empty. The Deku Lord shook his head trying to think of a way to cross that didn’t involve risking their lives.  
  
“I would have preferred you finding a bridge here, Lukas,” he half-jested. “Let’s see that Clawshot of yours, I’m sure the Mountain is strong enough to use it.”  
  
Rummaging through one of their satchels, Jethro produced the emerald coloured device, its bulk unwieldy. It was of his own creation, more useful than the ones the sentries had; it could be used for any distance rather than a set one. He began packing into it a long and sturdy chain. “Hold on tight,” he said, as he lifted the Clawshot to his shoulder.  
  
“Now let’s see...” he scrunched his face trying to find a suitable destination in the rapidly decreasing light. A few minutes passed of minute changes to aim.  
  
“Just shoot the damn thing!” the Deku Lord huffed, shaking Lukas into a decision.  
  
A loud snap echoed into the gorge as the trigger was pulled and the projectile sent flying. The claw punctured the ground just ahead of the lantern, the heavy chain pulling hard on the two Deku, carrying them quickly to the other side. Their landing was rough, sending them sprawling in either direction, the Clawshot landing with a satisfying thud.  
  
Holding his head, the Deku Lord stood with some difficulty, Lukas already packing away his machine, babying it every second. “That was a poor performance.”  
  
“Next time be more patient, then,” Lukas scoffed, drinking a green liquid from his flask. It was a common medicine in Fluvari, used for quickly regaining concentration. “If we ever find need of my cannon remind me to not let you touch it,” he patted a different and more bulging satchel on his left shoulder. “Mind, I’ll have to reassemble it first...”  
  
The First Lord chuckled at the neurotic lapse, quickly silencing himself as he remembered where they were.  
  
This was Death’s abode.  
  
Cold winds whipped past them, jostling the lantern and ominously causing its magical Fire to flicker. “No, don’t!” the Deku Lord hissed as his comrade casually removed the lamp from its post.  
  
He waited for something dreadful to happen, but nothing did. He recovered from his cringed position and cleared his throat, keeping a faux elegance.  
  
“We will make this visit as short as possible,” he gazed up at the black billowing storm clouds, then back at the comforting light of Kakariko, shuddering. On this side of the ridge the land was smooth and flawless, seeming to curve towards the tiny shack on all sides; it made walking to their destination a strange experience.  
  
Lukas held the lantern to a plain door, a very large padlock resting in its latch. It was unlocked and the chambers filled with rust. They surveyed the perimeter, finding a single window and a door on the back. It too was secured with a padlock, this one more elaborate and locked.  
  
“Hello?” the Deku Lord called into the night, politely knocking on the back door. There was no answer so the Deku returned to the entrance and pushed on the door there. It wouldn’t budge. “Mervil? Are you there? The Inquisitor has come to do some of his namesake,” if he was ignoring them as petty travellers the naming of a Prophetic One would surely have the door fly open. Once again there was no response. Changing tactics he started shaking the door in its frame to no avail.  
  
“Go pick the other lock,” he directed the Second Lord. A few moments of anxiously waiting in the dark passed before a frazzled Lukas returned.  
  
“There were three keyholes, and,” he held up three pieces of metal, each scorched to black and brittle. “This happened.”  
  
The Deku Lord grew impatient and slammed his fist on the door. “Would you open this damn door?” he hesitated for a moment and softened his tone. “Please?” It was then a slow creak echoed out into the mountainside, the front entrance slowly pulling back into the dark home. He could hear Jethro swallow nervously beside him.  
  
Together they crossed the threshold, their single lamp seeming to be overcome by the darkness of the interior. The First Lord strained his vision to make out any silhouettes, but there were none beyond Death’s belongings. Opening their lantern, the Deku lit three others scattered at random throughout the shack. No one was here, and by the conditions of things, no one had been here for a very long time.  
  
“Mervil?” he tried again, knowing they were alone but not letting himself come to grips with it. He had only been here once before and only outside of it. During his journey to Labrynna he had crossed paths with the shack, barely knowing it to be Mervil’s if he had not spotted him leaving in the distance.  
  
“I was under the impression the man was rich,” Lukas started, investigating a chipped cabinet full of tarnished dishes. There was no silverware to be found, which seemed a bit odd.  
  
“He was, he just did not have time for luxuries I suppose.”  
  
This first room was small and a combination of living and dining spaces. A rusted out potbelly stove rested at the far wall, a pan sitting half strewn inside it. Broken in two, a pipe lined with hard soot led up to the chimney. In the middle of the living space where one of the lanterns rested was a small table, otherwise empty and surprisingly not rotting from age.  
  
“Why he didn’t just build himself a better house, I’ll never understand,” he did not know for certain, but the bridge in the Forest was probably built by the Warrior. But things did not add up, this house had been abandoned for decades, maybe longer. The Deku Lord calmly allowed his frustration to ebb, there had to be something useful left here, it was obvious potent magic lined the walls, he could sense it.  
They passed into the second of two rooms, this one a lonely bedroom. In the far corner away from the backdoor was a small cot, the sheets tidy and folded. A nightstand made of fine mahogany lay beside it, a leg broken making it settle unevenly. An old candle covered in browned wax was lit, filling the room with eerie shadows. On the opposite wall was a cracked mirror; it reflected the room but neither of the Deku in it.  
  
“How unnerving,” Lukas brushed his fingers against the glass leaving ugly streaks of dust. “What’s this...?” He felt the edges of the mirror sway in his grip and pulled it from the wall. In behind the fixture was a small alcove giving a home to an odd looking chest.  
  
Jethro removed the box carefully, placing it on the bed and in the firelight. It did not have a shadow. Opening the bizarrely placed latches, they found it to be empty of any object; however, the interior was lined with dozens of engraved symbols.  
  
“They’re in his ancient tongue,” the First Lord informed his puzzled accomplice. “I know very few of them, if any accurately. This one,” he pointed to a rough etching in the bottom’s centre, “means money or ‘wealth’.” He said the latter in the best Crandallian he could, which was not very good. He had little time to learn what he could from Mervil’s notes provided with the Seed.  
  
At the echo of his voice the chest filled with a large sack, bursting with rupees. Startled, they backed away. _Surely this can’t be some kind of creation magic?_ The Deku Lord examined the money and found it to be legitimate. “Wealth?” he tried again, with nothing happening.  
  
“Astounding, it’s a Safeguard Lockbox of some kind,” Lukas closed the lid and reopened it, the rupees disappearing in between actions. “But I’ve never seen one you locked with words...”  
  
“Passages?” the First Lord spoke the word in Crandallian, watching a very tattered notebook appear in the bottom. Removing it delicately, he flipped through many pages, all filled with strange numbers and what seemed to be corrections. The calligraphy was fluid through the first pages but became more savage and rushed as the notebook progressed to the point of being nearly illegible.  
These were verse numbers for his Spellbook.  
  
Coughing nervously, he returned it and shut the lid, uninterested in what else may have been inside. He couldn’t place a reason for his alarm or unease at holding such a simple set of reminders.  
  
The Deku opened the lid to make sure it was gone. Sure enough, the chest was empty. He scanned the interior for any other symbols or words he knew, finding just one more. “Family...” The lid opened itself this time in a queer fashion revealing that nothing had been produced. “That’s odd; maybe he never put anything in here yet.”  
  
“Or he removed it,” Lukas’s voice from across the room shocked the Deku Lord from his thoughts. The Second Lord was standing in front of the opened nightstand, clutching a weathered pictograph in a cloth as if it were made of glass.  
  
The First Lord joined his friend and observed what he had found. In the photo stood a small girl, smiling brightly and gazing straight at the pictobox with haunting eyes. They looked so familiar, an intense blue, but seemed out of place with her long blonde hair. Her face was also strange, very Hylian but just not quite.  
  
“Who would this be?”  
  
“I... honestly do not know,” the Deku Lord looked around at the drab room and back to the stained photo. “Mervil never spoke of his family, not even to the others as far as I’m aware. Let’s put this back where it should be.”  
  
The box accepted the item as the rightful object, whisking it away to join whatever else might be hiding within it. Making sure he could not decipher anything more, they returned it to its home, the mirror being nearly dropped in fright as their reflections had suddenly returned.  
  
“Well, look at that,” he raised the candle to the wall the bed was touching, revealing hundreds of man-made grooves. “Looks like a tally of some sort.”  
  
“Days or judgments?” Jethro replied, opening the last drawer of the nightstand and finding a small pile of drawings, most of scenery nearby with others being symbols or coats of arms from lands he would never know. The last parchment was left half finished and covered in furious scratch marks. It seemed to depict a decrepit old fountain in front of a horizon that did not belong in Hyrule.  
  
“That’s a good question.”  
  
The First Lord placed his lantern on the floor, the flooding light of Din casting a shadow of something under the cot. Reaching under the bed he felt the sharp edges of another metal box. He pulled it out with some difficulty as it rattled what sounded like a small latch on the floor.  
  
It was a decorative iron chest with a simple lock in the front. A very haunting symbol adorned the top, one the Deku Lord knew well as it too graced the cover of Mervil’s Spellbook.  
  
“Surely...” he lifted the lid, not surprised that it was unlocked nor empty upon investigation. “This housed his book of magic. Looks even older than the tome itself,” he turned it over in his hands, finding more etchings, all foreign to him.  
  
“This seems like a lot of protection for a small shack,” Lukas was used to the finer homes in Fluvari, assuming that anything under a small mansion would be considered useless to pilfer. “And I’m sure the bandits were well aware of who lived over the hill,” he smiled at this, receiving a bashful smirk in return.  
  
“Help me move this, I think there is something else under here,” The First said to the Second, grabbing one end of the bed. Without difficulty it scraped out from its tucked corner, revealing a rusted latch and the faint outline of a panel.  
  
“A basement? This thing looks ready to fall over with a gust of wind! Can’t be much of a foundation left,” Lukas went to pull at the hatch but was stopped by a puzzled Deku Lord.  
  
“Where did the box go?”  
  
“What box?”  
  
“The Book’s box!”  
  
Sure enough the chest was gone from the top of the bed. The First Lord felt his anxiety rise, like they were falling into some kind of clever trap. He quickly went to the mirror and removed it, musing as the Safeguard box was gone as well.  
  
“I think we should go,” he tugged at Jethro’s robes but the curiosity had gotten the best of him.  
  
Opening the hatch did not reveal a staircase like they had guessed, it only revealed a third box; however, this one was made of wood and was well beyond rotting. A faint glimpse of metal could be seen through the cracks as Lukas removed the top. Inside rested a faded scabbard and a tarnished sword, the Crandallian symbol forged into the blade.  
  
The Deku Lord slowly relinquished the sword from the floor and held it like it were to turn to dust at any moment. “I always wondered what weapon he was mimicking when the time for reaping came,” he polished the Crandallian symbol, seeing that it was appropriately plated with gold and amethyst. “It is a humbling thought, holding something as ancient as this...” The last oldest thing he had ever held had been a doorknob in Ikana, but only in its past incarnation, so not quite as interesting.  
  
He had heard faint telling of Mervil’s days as a soldier for the Crandallian army; he just did not seem like the kind of person to glorify it by keeping his sword. Then again, he was Death, so why not keep something so tainted with blood and despair?  
  
Lukas removed the remnants of the box, the wood falling apart to the floor despite his best efforts to salvage its shape. Underneath it was a stone floor, cracks running through it. In the centre was a small slot glowing with a very dim light. The Deku Lord looked at the Crandallian blade and then to the floor.  
  
“Nothing ventured I suppose,” he inserted the sword into the opening and twisted it to the left. In front of the two Deku the floorboards groaned and snapped before parting to reveal a narrow and sinister staircase.  
  
The shock of another vanishing item in the home had been worn thin as the Deku Lord expected Mervil’s Sword to disappear from his hands. For a moment it remained but after he released it from his possession, it departed from the shack in a quick flash. A frigid breeze wafted up from the dark basement, giving them more reasons to choose to leave.  
  
It was apparent that there was nothing here. Mervil had long since abandoned this little shack, his home in Hyrule. But maybe answers lurked under their feet, and that doubt made it impossible to leave without investigating. The two looked at one another with a quick hesitation before picking up their lanterns and descending into the blackness before them.  
  
The staircase was only wide enough to go one body at a time, making it seem all the more claustrophobic. Each step was steep and each pace forward felt like they were going to fall forward. When they reached the bottom a single torch lit on its own accord, showing a simple door to be their journey’s end.  
  
“So much for us leaving,” Jethro jested as his friend opened the door precariously. He received a scowl in response before the First Lord slipped into the unknown.  
  
On the other side was a lone room, lit by two lanterns identical to their own. A table rested in the center, the floor around it littered with papers and what seemed to be the remnants of a feather pillow. The walls were bare and made of black stone, the same as the lock to this place. They seemed to choke out what little light there was. The Lords stepped inside, only to have the door slam shut behind them.  
“Yes, so much so,” the Deku Lord swallowed.  
  
Around the walls six torches sprang to life with perplexing black flames, an omen if either of them knew one. They cast very little light, but enough to show something else peculiar about the tiny cellar.  
  
_[What are you doing here?]_ A quiet voice seethed from the dark corner, freezing the Deku in their tracks and their thoughts. A man sat in a chair facing away from them, barely visible. _[Speak!]_  
  
“I’ve come looking for you.”  
  
_[Who? Why have you intruded on this sanctuary?]_  
  
The Deku exchanged a quick nervous glance. “Sanctuary?” he quickly reminded himself not to be so crass. Changing the subject hastily, he continued to reply. “You should already know who I am,” the First Lord replied calmly, presenting himself to the center of the room. He made a formal bow to signify their supposed amity.  
  
_[Yes]_ , the voice replied, sounding closer and more agitated. _[I know exactly who you are.]_  
  
The First Lord stretched out his hand to the darkness of the room, more confident now, but not by much. Making no sound, a tall figure rose from the chair in the corner with much difficulty. It approached him with ragged steps and head tilted at an odd angle. The shadow stopped just short of the light of his lantern, looking down at it and back to the Deku Lord with glowing red eyes.  
  
He pulled his arm back and took a step backwards, keeping the lantern close to his side.  
  
“We have only come to speak with you, Mervil,” his voice broke briefly, but he cleared his throat to regain his composure.  
  
The room shuddered as the cloaked figure laughed and mocked the name, his voice contorted and unnatural. He lounged forward with uneven steps, trying to catch the receding light of the First Lord’s lantern. Lukas attempted to open the door but it appeared to be welded shut in some fashion.  
  
_[What right do you have to know this name?]_ The jovial laugh turned to a venomous rage. All of the torches flashed brighter, their black flames engorged.  
  
“I am the Inquisitor, you are Mer-,”  
  
_[Do not speak that name.][/ i] The eyes flashed in the darkness of the hood. He began to laugh again, swinging his arms back and forth, making the flames dance with his newfound delight. He extended a hand to the Deku Lord as if to greet him, encroaching at the only natural light in the room. [i][The Inquisitor is no longer needed, long to be left in his fever dream of a Kingdom.]_  
  
Under normal circumstances they would have defended Fluvari but currently they were the ones trapped, not the other way around.  
“Mervil, we have only come for information, that’s all,” the First Lord nearly ran backwards into the Second as the three circled the room slowly.  
  
_[What do you fear most, ‘Inquisitor’?]_ The man’s hand entered the natural light, revealing it to be of rotten flesh and scorched bone. _[Do you fear loss...? Poverty...? Fate? Do you fear me?]_ He cornered the Deku and entered their ring of light, revealing his identity.  
It certainly was not Mervil, or at least the Deku Lord hoped not.  
  
The figure was a rotting cadaver, its legs broken and uneven. The face with the glowing eyes was a splintered skull, fleshless with its mouth perpetually ajar, not matching his words. _[Do you fear_ Death?] ‘Mervil’ knocked the lantern out of his hand where it smashed to bits on the cold floor, leaving them mostly in the ghostly dark light.  
  
“I do not fear you, Mervil, you are but an illusion,” he tried to continue but the skeleton seized him by the collar, easily lifting him from the floor. Lukas made an attempt to help but was thrown to the wall by an invisible force. The eyes of the skull would not focus on the Deku Lord; they flitted around as if blind or belonging to a lunatic.  
  
_[Miserable little thieves come to take what isn’t theirs. You sicken us.]_  
  
“Where is Mervil?” He struggled to speak despite not feeling any pressure on his throat.  
  
The skeleton cackled again, tossing him to the back of the room. _[It is a foolish man who seeks Death!]_ The spectre danced on his broken legs, making the flames follow his fluid movements. _You will not find him here, just his misery. Listen well, Death watches from the Heavens!]_ The torches blazed intensely, licking the wooden ceiling above. The eyes flashed again and the spirit was suddenly standing over him. _[Death has flown from this place! You will not find him._ He howled, causing the torches to go out in a burst of light.  
  
_[Fly from this place, from this sanctuary. Fly and pray that Death is not watching.]_ The spirit raised its arms to the ceiling and a loud rumbling shook the cellar. Dust and mortar rained from above, with bits of stone smashing to their long lost counterparts in the floor. Red flames licked the air from within the corpse before bursting into an inferno, consuming him in a cloak of fire and spraying cinders in every direction.  
  
Lukas seemed to materialize as if from nowhere and helped the Deku Lord to his feet. The spirit moved swiftly toward them, his hand clawing the air with angry flames. Jethro pushed the First Lord toward the door and was thrown aside by the spectre’s magic.  
  
Frantically, he tried to open the sealed door with no luck, the spirit rushing after him. The Deku Lord placed his palm against the door and attempted to concentrate on breaking the magical seal, but a familiar scorched hand pulled him to the ground. Mervil’s curse summoned a pillar of fire to the center of the room, consuming the table and crumpled papers.  
  
The First Lord felt a burning sensation in his flailing arm as the spirit held him to the ground, laughing at his attempt to escape. _What a miserable place to die,_ he thought, defeated.  
  
Above them the powdered ceiling of stone began to burn, causing rivulets of fire to rain from above, singeing holes in his robe and adding to the curse’s aura. The Deku Lord struggled to free himself much to the amusement of his captor, but that amusement ended in a curdling shriek. Jethro had recovered and proceeded to Smoosh his lantern across the spirit’s skull, sending him crashing to the floor, the light of Din countering the black magic with little effect.  
  
Lukas fired his readied Clawshot at the door, the heavy claw and chain smashing through it in the lapse of the spirit’s magic. The Lords pulled hard on the chain, ripping the blockade out from its frame, revealing the staircase on the other side. Without a moment to lose, they took off running up the stairs, hearing the skeleton screaming something in Crandallian they did not want to understand.  
  
The floorboards began to close above them, but not quite fast enough to impede their escape. Leaping into the bedroom, the entrance to the cellar closed, the roaring sound of the flames still echoing in the shack. Spires of fire began to rupture through the floor, providing unnecessary hazards as they made their way to the door.  
  
Behind them the spirit burst through the sealed floorboards as a robe of black fire, spreading tendrils of enchantments through the walls. Blazing hands reached out blindly for the two Deku, knocking Mervil’s more trivial belongings to the scorched floor. Ahead the front door began to close. The Deku Lord cursed their luck; Mervil had even the most cunning criminals in mind to keep from taking his things. Yet, given his most recent behaviour, perhaps this was all an empty cruelty.  
  
“Oh no you don’t!” The Deku Lord seized the exit with his magic, finding it overwhelming to deny Mervil’s hexes.  
  
They soared through the doorway as the floor gave to the spirit’s demands. The door slammed shut as the First Lord released it, the blistering heat from the shack driving them further away. Nearby the lone window shattered, spraying glass over them like sleet, tearing into their robes as they fled.  
  
At the side of the ravine they turned around to see the devastated abode of Death. Smoke billowed out into the night, feeding into the storm clouds conjured above. Flames of many colours blazed against the black night, consuming Mervil’s shack in a menacingly beautiful fashion. It was not long until they turned back to normal, the curse left by the home’s owner having finished its duties.  
  
“What a shame, everything the man had... Well, everything not worth missing I suppose...” Lukas tried and failed to find some way to bring a poetic sense to seeing the destruction of the home of a man he had never met. Though, it did not help having that man leave a charm behind that nearly killed him.  
  
“Well, he didn’t lose everything,” the First Lord passed the strange mirror over to his friend, having pilfered it in the escape. Anything had to be useful from that man’s home, he hoped. “But, we have lost our way. If Mervil has left Hyrule, I do not know where to go... or what to do,” he sighed heavily, sitting down to take in the sight of the burning shack.  
  
“By the way, we probably could have used that cannon of yours,” he continued, trying to bring some light to their skewed path.  
  
“I exaggerated,” Lukas chuckled. “I didn’t bring my cannon.”  
  
“I think that’s more like lying then.”  
  
“Yes, yes I suppose you’re right.”  
  
The Lords sat together, lost in thought and with choices. There must have been a reason Hyrule beckoned them to leave Fluvari, but without Mervil the Deku Lord saw nothing to aid them. Gazing into the gutted home of Death, they still found time to shudder in the stiff cold breeze. Nearby, a lone lantern swayed on its crooked post.  
  
***  
Despite their plan of keeping silent, the constant grunting involved with clearing the path echoed into the dark expanse. Either there was no wildlife to disturb, or something had already spooked them hushed. Benjamin wished for the prior.  
  
The old walking trail still existed in a ragged form, making the aspect of travelling to the campfire an attempt at overcoming zealous plant-life. With thick roots running through the soil much of the evening moisture was gone, leaving sturdy footholds in the black night. Benjamin cringed as a razor like barb suddenly dug into his faceplate, startling him back. His left greave caught in the dark and tripped him back into the painful mess.  
  
Cursing silently, he was helped back to his feet by a sore looking Dolomire. Already the Gorons were covered in nasty welts and scrapes, but neither felt a regret for aiding the well respected Captain. Who else could this far from home? Who else would in this haunting place?  
Pushing forward, they ignored further alarming encounters with their vegetative foe. As the trail widened, the brambles receded into the dark borders of the trees. The walking turned joyous as their vicious claws crept away, barely visible, daring not to impede them further.  
  
“Wait!” Benjamin whispered loudly, signalling for the Mountain Warriors to stop. He pointed down at the ground showing it was charred and littered with withered vines. Looking up at the clearing before them he could make out the shape of a wrecked carriage, the campfire blazing high and intense behind it. Someone had been trying to get out, and rather hysterically. The soil underneath them had been torn up by various blades and animal hooves.  
  
“I don’t like the look of this...” thunder rolled down over the Ridge, opening the sky for a light rain. Bronzen crouched and brushed his hand across the dirt, finding his fingers smudged with a foreign substance. “This is blood.”  
  
A different crash from behind startled them out of the Forest and into the clearing; the shock bewildering their senses. There was no call for help, of wildlife, or the cries of a distressed horse to follow. The men tried to lie to themselves that this was a coincidence. They had to get moving.  
  
“Go!” Dolomire seethed, pushing Benjamin toward the decrepit caravan. “We will handle anything from here,” the two Gorons stood stark beside each other, glowering into the Forest that glowered back with dismay.  
  
Benjamin drew his sword and padded quietly to the broken cart. It was rather simple in an exquisite way, adorned with queer markings and symbols – they were almost familiar. Three of its wheels had been torn from place, the fourth bent under the weight of the vehicle, tilting it at an odd angle. No light could be seen from the inside with all of the dark windows bordering the roof cracked or shattered completely. He dared not call out.  
  
Rounding the other side with a recruit’s caution, he was horrified to see the blazing fire that greeted him. The remnants of other matching carriages lay black and charred, piled almost neatly with corpses of men and horses between them. Suddenly the smell of seared flesh hit him, making him nearly topple with nausea. Coughing anxiously, he averted his eyes and searched for a door, the blistering heat of the fire clouding his actions.  
  
“There,” he exclaimed, his voice drowned by the crackling pyre at his back. The latch turned with difficulty at first, before clicking into place and falling open on the slope. Only his shadow greeted him at first, making him jump at its sight and feel ashamed at doing so. The glow behind him seemed ready to engulf his constant companion, the heat pushing him to enter the small wreck.  
  
One careful step ended in a tumult down to meet his shadow, rocking the carriage off of its wheel and smashing its side hard against the ground. Benjamin swore loudly along with a quivering voice in the darkness. Shaken, he went to light his lantern only to have it knocked out of his hands with a shrill noise.  
  
“No!” the man gasped, his silhouette barely noticeable in the black of the interior. He shakily held a decorative cane to Benjamin’s throat. “What do you want?!” shining eyes flashed from the Captain’s sword to the floor.  
  
“Ashtar?”  
  
“Quiet!” the eyes flashed again, signalling the Captain to disarm himself. “He will hear us...” the voice cracked and the man withdrew, terrified.  
  
“Ashtar, I am Third Captain of the Knight’s Guild of Hyrule,” he returned his blade to his scabbard and removed his faceplate. “I have been sent by King Basyle to accompany you to the Capital.”  
  
“No, no,” the shuddering form in the corner wept.  
  
Nervously, Benjamin approached, his hand offering to help the Ambassador to his feet. “What is going on here?”  
  
“Stop, he will hear us!” he spoke in a hushed tone. “He will kill you,” the voice changed to poison. “Like he killed my men.”  
  
“Come with me, now, my party is just on the other side of the woods, we can get out of here!”  
  
The cane smacked his hand away, Ashtar’s face twisting in rage and desperation as he shakily rose to his feet. “You led him back to me?” tears were streaming down the man’s face, his green eyes bright and vivid even in the dim light.  
  
“Led who? Who did this?”  
  
Ashtar covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. The ambassador could hardly stand, weakened by his imprisonment in his carriage. He wore a dark cap and a flowing tunic. It seemed he had been using his travelling cloak as a blanket, as it hung tattered and uneven on his shoulders. The man was of average height and build, certainly not a soldier type. Benjamin knew this would not be helpful in the slightest.  
  
“Ashtar, no one is out there,” he grabbed his shoulder and stopped the young ambassador from punishing him with his cane again. “Let us leave!”  
  
The Captain knew this to be a lie; he had felt a presence ever since they crossed the river back at camp. But that was not important. As long as they fled from this clearing in a timely manner they would have a chance. Today was not the day he wanted to meet the murderer of many brave men.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, he’s always watching me,” the hysterical ambassador fell towards his would-be rescuer, hardly able to speak. “I can hear him taunting me from within the forest. You brought the bastard back to finish the job!” Ashtar tried his best to pound his fist into the knight’s armour, but hadn’t the strength.  
  
“Listen to me! We will be safe as long as you leave with me n-,”  
  
A raucous cry filled the clearing before something colossal smashed into their carriage, buckling the roof and sending it tumbling up and over the pyre. Benjamin and Ashtar were flung around the inside, the Captain overcome with grief as he caught a glimpse of Dolomire landing a few metres away, crumpled into a dark heap.  
  
The Ambassador howled, scrambling to crawl out of the wreckage. Benjamin kicked open the crushed door and drug himself out with the help of his sword, his other hand pulling Ashtar with him. Waves of heat fell upon the men as they ran toward Dolomire’s form, a wall of flames erupting from the earth to stop them.  
  
“No! Go back, leave him!” Ashtar cried, trying to run the opposite direction, only to be silenced with dread.  
  
The pyre burned black, a tower of flames fighting the now pouring rain. Benjamin stood his ground, his sword posed but his composure not. Anxiously surveying his surroundings, he found Bronzen was nowhere in sight, even their trail home seemed to have been swallowed by the Nuun’s spite.  
  
Dolomire rested unresponsive just a few metres away, sprawled in a queer fashion and the dark of blood inching out from around him. They were surrounded by fire on all sides, the clouds bulbous and filled with lightning; there was no way this was a natural storm, at least not any longer.  
  
_[What do you fear most, Benjamin?]_ a voice called with pleasant admonition. The magical fire around them somehow muted its crackling, leaving the white noise of raindrops behind. Ashtar’s weeping was silenced, but his face was marked with horror.  
“Who are you?!” the Captain called to the mountains of fire.  
  
_[Do you fear loss?]_ the question seemed empty, like a routine. _[Is it Poverty? Fate?]_  
  
The Ambassador could not control his emotions, falling to the ground in shambles, holding his head in shaking hands. Benjamin stepped slowly back to the ruined carriage, lifting its shattered wheel as a shield, trying to keep calm in the face of disaster.  
  
“Show yourself, coward!”  
  
_[Do you fear me?]_ the voice said quietly with a tinge of humour on its breath.  
  
The black pyre churned violently, the black flames dancing in odd directions as it formed into a vague and towering silhouette of a garbed man. Ashtar pleaded silently for a way to escape. The Fiery Figure rose several feet higher and wider than their crushed caravan. With sweeping arms, the flames dropped like molten rain, scorching the earth.  
  
“What do you want from us?” Benjamin slowly backed away, the empty face of fire seeming to watch his trail. “You are the monster who slaughtered my men, aren’t you?”  
  
_[You trek through this Wood, seeing yourselves as heroes.]_ The pyre gestured behind it in a great motion, the limp body of Dolomire being lifted by magic to the space between them. _[This creature sees himself as the young man he once was, trying to make up for something already passed.]_ Tendrils of flame slowly crawled forth from the silhouette and wrapped tightly around Dolomire’s arms, making him sway like a sickening marionette. _[He helps himself to words he no longer deserves. You are no better, the foul sort to keep up his pathetic facade.]_  
  
The Captain roared, receiving a booming cackle back as the Flame let the Goron drop to the blackened ground below. Ragged breaths still escaped the Wrestler, but Benjamin could not contain his venom. He flung the wheel like a discus high and toward the towering figure with a satisfying snarl. The shield vaporized into ash as it momentarily contorted the Flame’s face.  
  
_[You see yourselves as heroes, but Death knows your soul. A wise man must regret that which he has done poorly, and atone for the sins he commits.]_ The rushing sound of flames slowly returned to those of the storm crashing all around them. _[Protecting this Ambassador is one sin I cannot forgive!]_  
  
Cascading from the skies, the silhouette fell upon them in a cruel rain of fire. Benjamin shielded the cowering form of Ashtar, feeling the biting pyre slam against his armour. He felt embarrassed for the man he was about to lose his life for, but if this creature made such a performance every time... who could blame it crushing a man’s mind? Benjamin hoped that this was not the same fear the others had felt at their demise.  
  
Suddenly they felt the flames snap away and the cold rain splash across their faces. The Fiery Figure roared from behind them as Dolomire flung the two men over his shoulders and sprinted through the walls of flame. He appeared dazed but determined. His face was swollen and bloody and his left arm flailed limp and broken.  
  
Another wall of black fire attempted to impede their path at the forest’s edge, but the Wrestler leapt into the dark wooded path. Bronzen lay a few feet in, struggling against magical bonds. Dolomire set the men down and turned his back to them, staring down the silhouette fast approaching.  
  
“Don’t do this!” Benjamin attempted to make Dolomire join them back to the carriage, but the proud creature shook his head.  
  
“Just remember that I helped you out of friendship. You’ll owe me nothing,” he looked over his shoulder and smiled. The Captain shook his head, unable to look back up at him.  
  
“Hold still!” Ashtar stood over the enraged Bronzen, smashing his ornate cane on the fiery shackles and freeing the Protectorate Elder.  
Bronzen rose to his feet and attempted to convince his friend to change his mind with a glance; but, the same stubborn fire burned within him and they silently made their farewells. The shorter of the Gorons lifted the two men over his shoulders.  
  
“Cover your faces and get ready!” he shot forward into the thick brambles, looking back sullenly at his defiant comrade.  
  
Dolomire stood his ground at the clearing’s edge, crossing his arms in front of him, bracing for the impact. The silhouette dispersed itself in a great inferno, washing over the Wrestler with a satisfying screech.  
  
Branches and leaves flew all around them, the wind twisting the canopy violently above. The Mountain Warrior held back unflattering curses as he ignored the sting of dozens of thorns, focussed solely on survival. Benjamin tried to make sense of their surroundings, unable as billowing smoke joined the dark blur of the forest path. Ashtar’s ramblings did not help much either, the broken man could only expel crude noises as Bronzen attempted to save their lives.  
  
The Captain felt only two things now, fear and guilt. Fear at the creature that pursued them, the killer of many of his comrades, and guilt, for he knew that each time he closed his eyes he would see that proud shadow of Dolomire. That proud shadow, broken, falling into dust, and only to save two men he hardly knew.  
  
Was that what bravery was? Benjamin felt ashamed for doubting the aspect of losing his life over Ashtar. The convoy before him had, and now Dolomire too, how was he any better?  
  
_[How many more will foolishly give themselves for you?]_ The taunting voice sounded as if it were with them there, running through the swallowing darkness. _[Give him to me!]_  
  
Bronzen broke through the end of the path, the carriage waiting for them as it should have been. The Goron rushed to it, slamming his fist on the side signalling to James they had returned, and not very happily. He went to rush them off of his shoulder and into the seat, the Captain first. Bronzen’s rough hands yanked the clasping Ambassador into the air, only to drop him with a horrible grunt.  
  
A blade bit through the tough flesh of the Elder’s back and spat blood as it pierced through his chest. Black fire covered the sword’s steel and the flaming silhouette behind the staggering Bronzen spooked their already edgy stallion. The horse gave out a terrible cry, rearing into the air and nearly knocking the carriage over.  
  
The silhouette removed its slick blade from the back of the Elder and gave him a shove forward, showing no reaction when he did not fall over dead. Benjamin pulled hard on the reigns, pushing the angered horse forward to trample the Fiery Figure ahead, only to watch it move swiftly from his path.  
  
“James, it’s yours!” the Captain called, leaping from the seat and landing hard in the muddy soil. James did not call out or act, the horse went galloping away with their escape plan. Benjamin was not concerned. He stood defiant, wiping the dirt from his face, and yanking his helmet off angrily. The silhouette was more his size now, but still towered above him, the size of a Royal Executioner. Its sword was broad, held expertly with a loose but known grip. It did not approach, only tilting its flaming head to the side as if curious.  
  
Benjamin drew his sword, which received a laugh from his opponent. The Figure turned away from him and approached the struggling Ambassador in the mud.  
  
_[This man is not worth the lives I’ve taken. Run away, this does not concern you.]_  
  
“Don’t you touch him!” the Captain bellowed over the deafening rain. The cloaked man reached for the trembling Ashtar, its fingers more like claws. Benjamin attacked, sprinting forward. He heaved his sword with all the strength he could manage, slicing diagonally at the neck of his foe. The silhouette raised its free hand and froze him mid-swing, the tip of his blade driving unnoticed through its hand. He did not even acknowledge Benjamin’s presence. “What? What is this?”  
  
The spell suddenly warped, suffocating the knight of air. Benjamin willed himself to move but nothing was working. With a quick flick of its wrist, the silhouette sent him sprawling into the brambles, their thorns tearing through his armour and gouging his sword arm. Dazed, the Captain watched as the Figure dispersed its sword in a plume of smoke and seized the Ambassador by his collar. Ashtar squealed shamelessly, blindly swinging his cane into the silhouette’s fiery body.  
  
Benjamin nearly fainted, fighting to bring himself to his feet, swearing as the hilt of his sword burned his hand to the touch. The world swam with fire; the saboteur’s flames had spread from the clearing and encroached upon their scene. He coughed violently, already lightheaded from the loss of blood. “What good is an Ambassador to you?!” he cradled his arm, taking staggered steps.  
  
_[Stay away or I will do much worse to you.]_ The empty hood had suddenly snapped to his direction, sending chills down his spine. It snapped its fingers like a spark, summoning a wall of fire between them, and then finally a replacement weapon. A ball of blue fire grew in its free hand, slowly taking form as a long staff, and then finally a haunting scythe.  
  
“No...”  
  
It was Bronzen speaking for Benjamin’s racing mind; the two leaders knew of this Man, but knew it could not be. The Elder was upon the silhouette, grabbing the fiery scythe before it beheaded the terrified Ashtar. Surprised by the rekindled strength of the Goron, the Figure was clipped with angry fists, seemingly unable to let go of its scythe, as it was used to pull him back to the crushing embrace of Bronzen over and over again.  
  
“You can’t have this one!” The Mountain Warrior ignored the screech the silhouette was emitting as he lamented his burning hands, clutching what seemed to be cloth under the flames. It clawed at him with its free hand, leaving singed flesh in its wake. Heaving through the pain, Bronzen threw him with hearty satisfaction into the dense forest, the sapphire scythe flailing wildly like a light.  
  
“Ben!” Bronzen ran to him, scarred and beaten. The sword wound had luckily missed his heart and cauterized.  
  
“No,” he brushed his heavy hand from his shoulder, picking up his sword gingerly. “You aren’t dying for me, or for that,” he pointed at the broken man lying in the mud. “I won’t allow it!”  
  
The trees around them lit the stormy night with dark flame, black and blue. Where the silhouette had been thrown, the forest had already caught fire, its damage spreading in bizarre tremors. A loud snap echoed through the rumbling thunder.  
  
_[Do not defy me. You seal your fate along with that snivelling whelp.]_ the voice was close again, heavily slurred and angry. Another uneasy rustling began to close in on them, the Highlands alive with smoke. The tree line was broken in uproar, branches and soil flying everywhere. Bronzen shielded Benjamin, expecting the worst.  
  
“You better get in; it’s a one way trip!” James pulled back on the reins, bringing the bewildered horse to a stop in their clearing. The carriage was badly beaten from its hectic journey, but anything would do.  
  
“Quit your sobbing,” Bronzen towered over the sullen Ambassador, lifting him with some difficulty from the earth, the mud dripping from his cloak. “It’s you he wants, so give us a bloody chance. My friend did not die for a cowardly prude.”  
  
Ashtar was speechless, not willing to respond and unable as he was seated within the cart in a rush, the doors closing around him. The carriage rocked dangerously as Benjamin joined James and the Goron latched onto the back.  
  
“Let’s hope you picked a good horse,” James smirked, his face tired and confused, but the Captain had no mirth to return.  
  
“It’s a ride back in the dark and the smoke, it’s going to take more than a good horse,” Benjamin snapped the reins and the men took off at a gallop.  
  
_[You do not know your folly!]_ The voice mocked from the rustling canopy. Harsh winds swirled above them, the clouds streaking with queer lightning. They were making good time, the Captain hoped, just waiting for something terrible to happen; this would be a time when any pitfall would spell disaster. Around them the Highlands came to life, creatures scattered in their wake and the rain had already swelled several tributaries over their banks.  
  
_[Give him to me!]_ As suddenly as they had left, the silhouette fell from the trees in a plume of fire, landing far behind them, resonating as a pinpoint of blue light. It raised its gnarled hands, one holding the familiar scythe, and the other willing trees to be torn from the very earth.  
  
“Watch out!” James seized the reins from the ailing Captain and made a hard left. A tree trunk splintered nearby, having missed its intended target. The hills fell from beneath the carriage as part of an embankment crumbled under their stallion’s feet. Distressed cries filled the night as they were carried off by the mud, unable to control their momentum.  
  
Branches tore at the vehicle, breaking the windows in a spray of glass. Ashtar held tightly onto his seat, the ornate cane casting a warm glow. The image of the Gorons haunted him in the dim light, overpowering the grief he felt in this pursuit. Why were they refusing their own safety? He gazed solemnly through the broken viewer, watching the shadows of the men protecting their faces from the storm-blown soil.  
  
“This is no time to be a hero,” his staff seemed to say, the pulsating light calming him.  
  
“I agree,” he coughed, fighting back his fears and his tears. He could only get in the way. What would the Goron say if he ruined them further?  
  
Bronzen was losing his footing as the cart swung violently in the mud, almost capsizing down the hill. His fingers dug deeply into the cracked oak as he pulled himself up, drenched and breathless. The Goron crawled onto the top of the carriage, giving much needed balance to the degenerating vehicle. His shoulder throbbed with pain, as if to warn him of something. Behind them the silhouette had made considerable ground, ploughing unheeded through the burning forest, the earth bending at its will.  
  
With the extra weight shifted behind it, the horse stumbled blindly through the current of the landslide and found solid ground. With a snapping jerk the carriage was pulled from the torrent. Benjamin was nearly thrown, his body quickly losing grip on reality. The blood would not stop pumping from his wounded arm, and the rough jostling of the carriage was getting too much to handle.  
  
James tried his best to direct them safely, the storm lighting their path. The edge of the forest was in sight, but that would not mean safety. Above the clouds swirled together, the lightning turning an unpleasant violet and lingering strangely. The Captain could feel his consciousness ebb; however, a rush of adrenaline returned to him as the rain changed to burning embers. Around them the voice of the Figure laughed, warped and full of glee.  
  
_[Benjamin...]_ the damning voice echoed inside the Knight’s head, soft as a whisper. _[Give your life, what use is it to you now? I can feel it trying to be free.]_ The Fiery Figure had caught them, spreading its fire up the side of their carriage. Its free hand lifted him with ease to join Bronzen, acting more cautious having found the Goron to be a considerable force.  
  
_[Dolomire did not live very long. Neither will this one.]_  
  
“You just don’t know when to give up!” the Elder called, forcing himself to move in the raining embers. But he only knelt, the blade of the blue scythe tight against his throat.  
  
“I am surprised the King lets you have your silly Protectorate,” the silhouette finally spoke, but with difficulty, tilting Bronzen’s surprised face towards its own. “He must be as weak as you.”  
  
They finally broke free of the Nuun Forest. The expanse of grasses and dark skies greeted them for only a moment.  
  
“The Gods be damned!” James cursed, dropping the reins and covering his face. The ground disappeared beyond a sharp outcropping, sending them tumbling down the rocky side. The stallion let out a curdling scream as its legs shattered from the impact with the bottom. Carriage wheels flew in every direction, the vehicle splintering into several pieces at the base of the hill. Benjamin had been thrown from his seat as a blur of tarnished armour, with James landing far from him, his borrowed robes tattered and smouldering.  
  
Bronzen rose to his feet, leaving his deep gash in the earth behind. In the centre of the wreckage lay the motionless Figure, still aflame with black fire. Its weapon flickered nearby, struck into the soft soil by the impact. Bronzen approached with caution, his ragged breath steaming the air in front of him.  
  
Benjamin watched from the ground, having not the energy to stand. Nearby he could hear their faithful steed give its final whimpers of death; James had no reason to doubt their choice now. And it was James who now stood between the ailing Captain and Death, sword drawn.  
  
The silhouette laughed, floating slowly to its feet, seemingly unharmed. “Now who is this child? James, I know you. James, the man Basyle will not Knight. I wonder why, and so does he.”  
  
“Do not disrespect your King!” James seethed, pointing his blade at the Spirit before them. The storm thundered loudly, shaking the earth beneath their feet.  
  
“ _Sir_ James, a queer title,” it taunted. “The King cannot knight bastards in court, especially ones he sires.”  
  
“What?” the driver stepped backwards, confused.  
  
“Don’t listen to its lies,” Bronzen took a step forward, wielding a large wooden club, part of the broken undercarriage. “This creature is a cunning demon, it will tempt without want.”  
  
“Even your _Sir_ Benjamin emptily promises a title your King has refused you, despite bravery, despite loyalty!” its voice suddenly turned to an angry bellow. “And what do you fear most, James!” The silhouette vanished in a cloud of fire, only to appear mere inches in front of the driver’s face, scythe in hand.  
  
Bronzen swung, only to be repelled by the Figure’s magic, crashing into the remnants of the carriage. James leapt backward, avoiding a swipe from the fiery weapon. He managed to place his steel in a defensive pose in time, the second swing from the silhouette colliding with his sword. The force sent him reeling backward, almost losing his balance. The two shared several more blows, the raining embers being blown into his face by the merciless wind.  
  
With a heavy backhand, the scythe cut through the air and shattered James’s weakened blade, knocking him down. James held his exposed face, feeling several shards of metal protruding from his skin. The taste of blood and metal made him retch.  
  
“You are a strange man. Only one who does not fear Death can face it so... blindly,” the silhouette chuckled eerily, making light of the quick fight. It lifted the bloodied man from the ground, cupping his ruined face with fiery hands. “I am disappointed that you are not afraid of me. I would like to see how long you won’t be.”  
  
“Put him down!” Benjamin stirred at the sound of the familiar voice, using his blackened sword to upright himself against a large stone. The silhouette turned its head trying to find the source, visibly surprised.  
  
Sir Zachary stood behind them, the rest of their Convoy surrounding the grassy knoll. The drawing of blades sang into the night, their steel flashing brightly through the darkness.  
  
_[And what will you do?]_ James was released, huddled in the mud with his ruined face. _[There were more men the last time, and remember what happened to them?]_ The silhouette lifted its scythe, pointing to Zachary. _[To be honest, I have had more fun with the Gorons. They are not quite so easy to cleave.]_  
  
“Men, bear arms!” the Convoy raised their blades, only a few men strong. Laughter filled the air at their gallant behaviour. But, as a Labrynian flag hoisted into the air, the silhouette went quiet, the unsheathing swords of a hundred men replacing it.  
  
“Demon, you rile the giants of Hyrule’s allies,” the Labrynian General struck his flag into the soaked earth, the falling embers returning to a light drizzle. His men ascended the hill, revealing their number, all armoured and ready for combat.  
  
The silhouette seemed to appraise them, returning his weapon to a neutral position. He stepped forward to the shattered remains of the carriage, unhindered by the encroaching force prepared to attack. Ashtar lay among the planks, his travelling cloak covering his face. A quiet murmuring escaped his form, his hand clutching tightly to his cane.  
  
“You will regret this,” it said, turning back to face its foes. “You waste your compassion for these men. If I do not have this one now, I will not stop,” the scythe mottled from sapphire to black. A pair of wings sprouted from the Spirit’s back, burning red. “I invite you.”  
  
The silhouette sprang forward without warning, cleaving three men cleanly in half. Benjamin recoiled in horror, watching the army from Lynna descend upon the Fiery Figure. Steel rang against the ethereal weapon, its blade unforgiving. It fought with skill the Captain had rarely seen, easily defending against two men at once. The silhouette would not be overwhelmed, as any man who came too close was sent flailing through the air by unseen magic.  
  
With a satisfying howl, the Spirit released a burst of flame, disintegrating nearly a dozen men in its wake. The General of the Lynna battalion was cut down, the scythe carving through his collarbone. He fell in a heap, gasping for air but only inhaling his own blood. The men continued to defy the Demon, trying to keep it on the defensive, but to no avail.  
  
Zachary returned to his feet, having been tossed aside by the Spirit’s magic. His face was covered in blood from a gash above his eye, and he looked frail in the light of the silhouette’s flames, despite his best effort. Crying out, he leapt for the winged creature, aiming for its neck. The sword passed clean through, melting from some unbelievable heat.  
  
“Arrogance.” The silhouette pushed back the dwindling forces with a wall of flame, separating him with Zachary. “Death is yours,” the Spirit widely swung its scythe, striking an arc through the soil between them. The Knight stepped backwards, moments before the earth fell from under his feet, a pit of flames erupting to consume him.  
  
“No!” Benjamin sprang to his feet despite his frailty, cursing wildly. He tried to run, tried to ignore the terrible cries of his comrade, but his legs would not carry him. The Captain fell to the ground, too weak to act. Around him the ground shook, the Mountain Warrior taking his incentive. Bronzen dove into the flames, relinquishing a blackened and writhing form.  
  
The battle ceased, the scarce number of men too horrified to act. Men lay dead all around them, torn to pieces and others burnt to ash. “I do not have to kill you! Don’t you understand? If this Ambassador is nothing to me, he must be even beneath nothing for you. You protect him by some word of a man who dares not tread a path such as this.”  
  
The silhouette turned to the unconscious form of Zachary, Bronzen holding him and showing a frightening rage. “I will take the lives of those foolish to act against me. I will show you no mercy, no kindness. I stand here to plead you save yourselves from misery. Give Ashtar to-,”  
  
“Enough,” Ashtar pulled himself free from his crumpled sanctuary, walking heavily on his ornate cane. “Leave these men,” his voice quivered as he forced out his cowardice. The silhouette turned to face him, opening his arms as if to embrace the Ambassador. Each step showed how weak the broken Ashtar really was, barely able to walk, especially not in the face of death.  
  
The silhouette covered the remainder, cutting the air with a greedy swing. His scythe froze in front of his target’s face, stopped by the Ambassador’s cane. It began to glow bright gold, Ashtar pushing the surprised Demon backwards with ease.  
  
“Leave these men,” he spoke clearly, unafraid and glowering at his assassin. “And leave me!”  
  
A burst of golden light erupted between them, shattering the scythe and knocking the silhouette back into the hillside. The creature screeched in pain, stumbling forward with its body covered in shining lesions. With an eruption of fire, it vanished, black blood boiling in its wake.  
  
Ashtar’s cane returned to normal and he took a few cautious steps forward. Benjamin could not believe his eyes, and none of the remaining men said a word, simply taking the opportunity to disperse and tend to the wounded. The last thing the Captain remembered was the comforting hand of Bronzen picking him up from the ground, and watching as Ashtar collapsed before them.  
  
The storm vanished as quickly as its conjuror. Beneath the starry skies the Nuun Highlands burned brightly, its light witness to the broken souls before it. Bronzen barked commands to the remaining men, holding the crumpled forms of the knights like children. For a moment he almost left the Ambassador where he lay, but the cost had simply been too great. Yet, he could only think of the promise of more devastation. This Demon would keep its word.  
  
And who would rescue them then?


	31. Chapter Thirty: Silver Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes: I promise it will be edited later. Yes, no edits...oopsie. Anyways! HAPPY YOUT YEAR! xD

“Lass, we have to keep moving.” Yazstromo said, but the elderly man and his companion stood there, gasping for breath. “If we stop here, we’ll never make it in time.”

Tap folded her arms. “At the speed you two are going, we won’t make it anyways.”

The man stared blankly. “I wouldn’t mind meeting my successor before he kicks the dust. But if we are so slow then perhaps we need a faster mode of transportation?”

“Where?” She asked. Something warm splatted on her head and a stink like rotten eggs mixed with urine assaulted her nostrils. She clinched then glanced up with one eye as white goo slithered down her forehead. Aracient flew down and landed on the cobblestone street.

“What a nice bird!” Yazstromo’s eyes sparkled, “He even gave you a gift! I've heard that it's a sign of good luck.”

“I’ll kill you after this…” The Innocent warned.

[I…I apologize, but surely the fox is worse.] The bird stated, but she swore she could hear a faint smugness in his “voice”. She’d do more than kill him, she’d have to make sure to pluck his feathers out and break his wings first. [Yet, if it is faster transportation that you desire, perhaps those steeds would be of service?]

Aracient pointed with his beak towards two horses tied to a post next to an inn. One was a gray mare and the other, a mighty stallion, large enough for two men or one of ample weight. The Innocent smirked, then proceeded to cut the mare from the post and clumsily leaped onto her back. Whispering in her ear to calm the horse down, she steered the gray to face the two aging men. Daedus’ and the mechanical bird’s mouths hung agape, but Yazstromo untied the stallion and climbed on top more gracefully than any man of his advanced years should have been able. Tap rolled her eyes; he’d faked his heavy breathing earlier.

“I believe we are all friends,” Yazstromo offered a hand to Daedus, but the other man continued to gawk. “I thought you trusted me; we’re only borrowing these, lad, not stealing them…you could say, they’re on loan to the Chosen until further notice.”

The Prophet winked at Tap and the Innocent nodded. “It’s not like we’re the bad guys.” He glanced at her, but nodded. Could she blame him? She didn’t like “borrowing” in sunlight either.

He’s weird, the Innocent thought as Yazstromo finally got him to climb onto the stallion’s back. Trembling, he squeezed the Prophet’s waist, and his breath came in quick intervals. A wave of pity hit the Innocent: she couldn’t blame him she would not want to ride the same horse as Yazstromo either.

“Hey!” The inn’s double door slammed open behind them and a man with a crossbow in hand rushed out. He aimed it right at her. “Give me back my bloody horse!”

“Your horse?” Tap asked, noting that he was missing a few fingers and had a brand on his forehead. “That’s a horse-thief brand. I betcha took this horse from its owners’ too.”

The man glared. “You don’t know that, little miss. Don’t you think it’s wrong taking another’s property?”

“Well…”

“Oh?” Yazstromo began, “I doubt she liked you much anyway. You see, that girl is very nice to animals. Nicer than you. I wouldn’t worry too much about your mare. She’ll be happy.”

“Shut it, old man.” Another fellow came out of the inn, wielding a bow. “Dat's mah horse.”

“Such bad language. Tsk. Perhaps a class in proper grammar might be of use?” An arrow flew past the elderly man’s head taking his hat with it. “I guess not!”

The crossbow fired. She swore; it was going to hit! The Innocent closed her eyes, waiting for Death to knock her off the horse and carry her away. It might be nice to see Mervil again…

Thunder boomed. Tap opened her eyes. No sign of Death, only Yazstromo holding up his staff, a faint trace of silver electricity still sparkling at the end of his crystal spoon. The two men lay on the cobblestone behind them, alive but unconscious.

“You’ve…umm…learned some new tricks.” She said once he caught up to her.

“No, that’s one of the oldest in the bag.” He grinned. “Now, why did we take these? I’d feel a smidge bad hurting those men if it was just an impulse…”

“It wasn’t just because I think I’m some righteous crusader like Kaz.” Tap answered, “We…we have to get there quickly. It was Aracient’s idea.”

“He speaks to you?” Daedus asked.

“Yup,” She smacked the horse. “Told me where our Advisor-friend is.”

Daedus blinked and asked Yazstromo something she did not quite catch. He nodded and smiled brightly at her. “Well, then I suppose lead the way, I would not want to keep your friend waiting.”

***

Kaz’s knife gently rested on Will’s throat. A simple, useless act; he knew this, but he’d seen men do enough foolish things. Will could easily decide to try to break lose if he wasn’t careful. By the gods, the man had already blew up the coach of the High Cleric this evening, what was to stop him from doing something else irrational? If he did, he might bleed to death in some alley somewhere and no one would give a damn.

He turned to the Rito, straining his neck to meet her eyes. “How much blood do you think he’ll lose before we get him there? I don’t want him to bleed to death before—”

“I..doubt that…you bastard…”

“If you speak, mate, you shall only make it worse.” Naomi took out a roll of white bandages from her satchel. She frowned, then tightly wound it around Will’s head, then he felt something cool delve into his eye, lessening the pain some, but he still could not see through. No, he realized, that eye would never be of any use to him again. “I can’t do more than that. And you, Kaz, ye should’ve thought of this right after the fight, not ten minutes later!”

“Oh, of course, Naomi, he’s certainly not being followed by anyone else.” The Rito frowned violently at his words. He sighed, “The whole guard is probably chasing his tail by this point, and thus, ours. Most countries aren’t very fond of mere citizens catching their wanted, dangerous criminals, but most criminals aren’t good enough to bring down ten men by themselves either.”

“You’re only using that as an excuse, matey.”

“We have to move,” He pushed William forward, turned the corner, and stopped. At the far end of the street, Darius stood. The sun having turned the sky a deep, blood red behind him and twenty or so guards. He lifted a hand and approached them alone at a slow, but assured pace wearing a blank smirk on his face.

“I see you have caught one of our prey, Lord Amintor.” He stated, narrowing his eyes. “Where, might I ask, did you hide the other?”

“What makes you think I’d know?”

“Your attempts to deter me from my duty and, once I had obtained injury, sent me up to the Goron Protectorate where I was forced to stay due to the orders of my ‘fellow scribe’ make it highly suspect that you are in coerced with them.” The man stated.

Will nodded, smiling slyly. Kaz cursed him silently. “And what about my friend?”

“I have no interest in her.” He bowed to Naomi. “Though, may I ask your ladyship to leave so that we may conduct our business?”

“No,” Naomi answered. “You bloody snake.”

Darius raised an eyebrow, “Snake?”

“You’re only out for bloody vengeance,” The Rito glared.

“The law is the law,” explained the scribe. “I am only here to enforce it, not to place personal desires for punishment before it.”

“And what if I disagree?” The Rito asked. “If you were so bloody interested in the law then ye wouldn’t only be interested in finding the person who took yer precious stone.”

“Ah, yes, but I am also interested in taking those whom are in alliance with him and this man who murdered the High Cleric.” Darius glanced at Will for a moment then gave Naomi slight frown. “And, may I ask, how is that you know these things?”

“Isn’t…Jaros still hurt?” William asked. So, the only one he wanted to hurt was him, at least the others would be safe from this man if he were to escape.

“Indeed,” Kaz nodded. “I think you should see to your husband. I’ll be fine, Naomi, it’s not like I’ve never dealt with others like him before.”

She glared, but nodded, and trotted back the way they had come. Kaz wished she would worry over him less. “Now,” Darius began, taking out a pair of handcuffs from inside his robes. “May I ask you both to come peacefully or must I call my men to drag you to the gaol?”

***

His flesh burned.

Even now, several moments after the carriage had been engulfed in flames and exploded, did he notice what straining his body rolling out had done. His wounds wept for him, as he would if not for hot ash scalding away the tears. The guards had been robbed their lives in that explosion. They could not have known to move once the fire had reached the potions. It was only he who was left and not for much longer. At least, he had designed those spells not to burn for long.

Something black landed on his chest, it was a raven. It walked up and down his leg twice, fluttered, and landed on his hair and pierced him with its sharp, beady eyes. A chill ran down his spine.

“Leave me…” He whispered, flailing his hand weakly. But, it dashed his hopes and released a hallowing caw. Perhaps it was only justice for the Goddesses to have him die at the beaks of carrion and not just bleeding to death on some forgotten alleyway in the midst of Old Castle Town. What right had he to complain? He had done his duty.

“Aracient?” He heard a woman say. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to eat with your friends…”

“His friends?” It was an old man, now, Klaus was sure he was only hallucinating. Why would these people be here? Most Hyruleans would not mind if he were to perish. “So you’ve tamed others like him?”

“Nope,” She said. “I’ve never tamed—ow—stop it you stupid bird!”

“I…think…is that him?” Another man, this one in his middle years, asked.

Klaus bent his head slightly up, but the smoke from the fire and the pain in his back and side still made it hard to see them. He coughed and turned on his side then coughed again. Blood came from his lungs. The girl ran towards him.

“Oh no…” She said, kneeling beside him. The others followed. “Look at me.”

He did. His breath coming in gasps, and his stomach turning within him. She smiled, and, for a moment, he felt as though he had seen this raven haired woman before. Strange, he was once sure he would be in Mable’s hands when his health failed, not the hands of a young, poor woman and her aging relatives. The gods did have a sense of humour.

“I…know this might sound strange.” She said, “But you’ll have to trust me. And don’t give me crap, you’ll die if you give me crap and my friend…and my other friends don’t want you to die either. He made me promise to heal you. Do you understand?”

Klaus shook his head. How could she expect to heal him? He doubted a woman of her standing could afford to purchase a fairy or even a red potion. Not with the cost of bread, meat, and water for the poor. Not with two, old relatives to care for. Perhaps she was insane…or meant to kill him out of pity.

She sighed. “Daedus, could you help me get him on his back?”

The older man folded his arms as his younger relatives forced the Advisor onto his back. Pain seared through his body and he coughed again, heaving blood upon his chest. He blinked twice, and the young woman was beside him again, her hands on his chest.

She smiled. “This might hurt a little…”

“I…I…do not fear death.” He managed.

“That’s quite brave of you.” She said gently placing her hands above his chest. “But, if you ask me, Death’s a lot scarier than most people think. Lay still.”

He did as demanded and a white light jolted from her hands like silver lightning rushing over his body. The pain blazed. He screamed; closed his eyes, then, it was gone. All except for a dull ache in his back.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “Those scars are too old. I couldn’t heal them completely…you’d think after five centu—never mind. Sorry.”

“Five what?” He asked, weakly. He had to have heard her wrong. This woman could not be…had she not just healed him?

“Nothing,” She turned away, abashed.

He coughed. The woman hovered over him again, terror in her eyes. There were two of her…no, the logical part of brain said, he had lost too much blood. Even her powerful gift could not save him. Klaus closed his eyes.

***

Leaning back against the cold earthen wall at the back of his cage, Will released a moan. His eye still throbbed despite Naomi's magic and the medicine applied to it once he arrived at the gaol. They had applied an eye patch to it as well. Shackles made both his feet and hands numb and his ruined long coat gave him little warmth in the cold, damp gaol cell.

Two guardsmen stood on either side of the barred door, one held the keys to his lock; the other held a dimly lit lantern. Neither spoke to Will or to each other. No, dirty tranquility reigned.

Someone was coming. Heavy boots stomped against the packed dirt floor and armor creaked as the man walked down the corridor. Both guards turned in unison, the one with the lantern tried to scream, but a heavy sword deluged his head. The other guard stared, frozen, eyes wide open.

“Drop your keys and run,” said the attacker in a deep, smooth voice.

The keys fell and the guard scampered. Before the keys reached the ground, a gauntleted hand caught them and a tall figure dressed in a full-suit of black armor stood in front of his cage. Will’s eye widened and he backed up against the wall, praying that this killer Darknut might not decide that he was next on his killing spree.

The Darknut unlocked the cage, gently pushing it open. “Don’t be alarmed, that was the only man I had to kill today…the others are only unconscious.”

Others? Had this Darknut been a prisoner as well? Will shivered. “You’re a Darknut.” He said. “A bloody Darknut. I thought you all died even before those damn heroes supposedly saved Hyrule.”

The Darknut shrugged, which only jiggled his armor slightly instead of the intended effect. “Only the ones that choose evil…I got a second chance.”

“That sounds great.” Will muttered, eyeing the keys in the Dark Nut’s gauntlet. “But I’m not looking for a second chance. I just killed the Advisor and it feels so…empty...it doesn’t matter if I feel guilt now. Klaus is a dead man and she’s avenged…”

“I see…” The Darknut’s red eyes shined brightly, “But I think I see more than you do.”

Will frowned. “What? Are you here to lecture me? A lecture from a Darknut…and perhaps that bastard of a Hero in the morning. What better!”

“No.” The Darknut raised his hand to the strange amulet he wore around his neck. “This…it allows me to see Poes, mainly of the malevolent kind.” He paused and turned his head. “No, I don’t mean you Dren.”

“Dren?” Either this Darknut was insane or telling the truth, Will decided. He could not say he wanted to find out which it was.

“He’s...you wouldn’t be able to see him.” The Darknut explained. “He is one of these Poes this amulet allows me to see. But I didn’t come here to kill you because you ‘killed’ the Advisor…or lecture you. I’m a Darknut, I served Ganon. What I’ve done is far worse than anything you’ll ever do. Yet, the idea of me lecturing you, now, that’s a strange picture.”

Will nodded. “Why then?”

“It’ll be easier to show you.” The Darknut knelt beside Will, unlocked the shackles around his arms and feet, and unclipped the amulet from around his thick neck. Even kneeling, he was a head-and-a-half taller and could Smoosh him in an instant between his giant hands. He hated being at the mercy of such a creature with no weapon and a ruined eye, but the Darknut only handed him the amulet, gesturing for him to take it.

With a trembling hand, Will grasped the amulet’s ruby and suddenly found himself engulfed in a sea of Poes. He heard their voices, some crying, others moaning. Even more screamed at him, telling him to find a way to kill the Darknut or to kill Kaz—that damn man deserved it, they said, he ruined his eye. Will gasped, he did not even know this Darknut nor did he want Kaz dead. Hurt, perhaps, but not dead. But if he had gotten out and killed the guard, would he have tried? Could these things have made him do it? Was he even in control of himself anymore?

“Stop it.” He said. “Why are you following me?”

“Murderer…” They said in unison, pointing at him. Some laughed, others wailed. “Bloodied William, we want our due…we got our due…heartless one...”

“I killed you all.” He said coldly. Understanding flooded him. He’d killed them all. Just as he had killed Klaus this day…and he did it with a smile on his face and sick joy in his heart. What had he become? “…and became just like you…” They laughed.

“William…” Ghostly hands took hold of his. Will looked up. Not into the face of the hundreds of faceless Poes that surrounded him, but this one sported a face beneath the hood. Ethereal pale skin and a curl of honey-colored hair fell into her blue eyes. He tried to move it away from them, only to have his hand go through her translucent forehead. “William…”

“Aileshe?” He felt tears spring to eyes and a small smile formed on his face, both unbidden. He hadn’t seen her for so long…if only he did not have to see her like this, wrapped in the cloak of one doomed to wander the earth due to a life cut too short.

“Aren’t you happy?”

She shook her head. “You never listen to me! You only listen to them…I…I never wanted Klaus dead or anyone for that matter. Will…you forgot me...”

“But he killed you!” He replied. “He…he…”

She smiled sweetly. The same smile he had yearned to see for so long. “It’s worth more dying young and for the man I loved than wasting away on a bed knowing I could have saved him…but he forgot me.” She looked into his eyes, tears dampening her own. “Why did he forget me?”

“You…you…didn’t want him dead.” Will shook his head in disbelieve. She placed her ghostly hand on his forearm.

“I never wanted him dead, Will.” She said. “All I ever desired was for your safety.”

The other Poes stopped, staring at him. Waiting. He trembled beneath their gaze. Yes, they might have whispered in his ear enough times for him to think otherwise, but he had made the final decision. He had shot the carriage. He had ended Klaus’ life. And for nothing.

“You never could kill. Not even an ant if you could help it…,” He placed his hands where her should-have-been. “I…I forgot…I—will you forgive me?”

“Only if you stop listening to them and remember me.” She said. “Please say you will remember me…”

“I will.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, and already, he could see her beginning to fade. His heart broke a little at this, the next time he would see his fiancée was in death. “I forgive you, William…and I love you…”

She kissed him gently on the lips, “I love you too…” Then, a gust of wind blew her spirit away and the others followed. Leaving him in their wake.

“You’re still here?” Will said.

“Yes, and we need to leave. Half the guards in this place are unconscious and the others will come quickly.” The Darknut stood and handed Will a staff, a helmet, a cloak, and a bag. Will threw the cloak over his shoulder and caught the sparkle of silver embroidery sewn into the bottom. This was Jaros’s cloak. Why had he given him this when the others, even Tap, had never quite trusted him?

“I am Fulkrome.” His companion said.

“William Desesperacion, don’t call me that. It’s Will.” He handed the Darknut his amulet and readied his new spear. He had not fought with one since the days of his knighthood, since the day she had been hung. “Let’s go.”

***

The first strains of silver twilight peaked over the horizon in the east as the knights, at last, limped the final few miles to the City of Hyrule. It was just over the last hill, just a few more steps. They had marched so long, jumping at every shadow and any noise made by a small animal in the thicket or a gust of wind. More coward than men, but that thing, no, he could ask little more of them than to keep moving. He could not ask more when he could not gather the courage himself.

Bronzen had stayed with them. The Goron’s form, little more than a shadow in the waking light, carried James in his arms. Still strong. He had not heard a single whimper throughout the hastened, fear-driven march despite the wound near the Goron’s heart and his burns. Why had Hyrule betrayed such allies as these?

“Captain,” Benjamin spun a little too quickly for his own comfort. It was only the Labrynian General, torchlight upon his hardened face in the early morning gloom. “This runner came to my men and I only a few moments ago wishing to speak with you and the Ambassador.”

“General, it is better that you stay.” He halted his men then turned his attention back to them. “The Ambassador sleeps in the back of the carriage General Ornas gave us. If it were not for him and the Gorons we would not be here.”

“Sir Benjamin, if it is not out of—“

“Don’t speak.” Bronzen silenced the rider. The young runner eyed Benjamin who found himself smiling weakly despite the fear that the demon would ambush them at any moment. He knew it would return but not when, yet hearing Bronzen speak again brought him a measure of comfort. “It is not a thing any of us need to speak of while the night has yet to pass.”

The runner frowned, but upon surveying the other men in the unit, he stopped. These were tired men, injured men; he did not have time to wonder why a Goron was in their company. That they had returned at all was a miracle in itself. “What should I report?”

“Heavy casualties and injuries. We will need the infirmary to be ready on our arrival, but the Ambassador and Jonathan are safe, though worn.” The young runner nodded hastily, it seemed the fear that blanketed the remaining knights had begun to affect the boy. Benjamin placed his hand on the Bronzen’s large shoulder. “Tell them also that the Goron Elder, Bronzen, and the General Ornas of Labrynna are as well.”

The men, some having slumped to the ground in exhaustion, looked up. Awe was painted on their faces; perhaps this would be enough to encourage them onward until they reached the City itself. It was not too far, he could see the watchtowers and strong, fortified walls reflected the early dawn light in distance.

“They…I never thought to meet a Goron Elder or a real general. I will be off to tell them, Sir Benjamin.” The runner said then kicked his horse’s flanks and road off.

Once he had left earshot, Bronzen sighed, but did not speak. Instead, he again marched and the others followed.

***

“No,” Basyle said, lips flat, voice barely containing his anger and disgust. These men were insane, news of Klaus’ death had only reached them several hours ago, and they spoke already of replacing him. But, what was he to expect from them? They only longed for power; they would not take time to mourn a man they barely respected. “We will not speak of this again until after the Festival has completed and the official time of mourning is over. That is enough.”

“Your majesty,” The king and Council turned to face the newcomer, a man in his later years using what appeared to be a giant ladle for a staff. There was a strange dignity to him, the kind that Basyle had often encountered from ancient priests and his own father before his demise at the hands of old age.

“What authority do you enter this meeting, old fool?” Asked Graydon as he stood before the Council. He had earlier demanded a replacement of the Advisor (himself). “How did you get past the guards?”

“Magic,” He paused then cheerfully smiled. “You could say they are taking a well-deserved nap.”

“Your majesty,” the Council Member gave him a dramatic frown. If he could have a member removed for the offense of his love for drama, Graydon's conviction would come first. “This cannot be allowed. This…wizard. A wizard. You know they are not permitted to use magic in Hyrule without a permit.”

Basyle cleared his throat then waved for the old man to continue. “The Head Nurse sends news. You see, some unexpected individuals arrived early this morning…”

“Yes, I know of the Knights return and that Bronzen has arrived with them, I will— ”

“She wouldn’t waste your time.” The King and the Council stared at the old man. Who did he think he was to interrupt him as though he were a wayward child? It was curiosity, not anger, that gripped Basyle as he focused on the aging man. “It is…do they have to be here?”

“Excuse us. You may continue here if you wish.” The King stood, leaving the stunned Council in his wake. He turned to the old man who, by now, had caste off his unusually cheery demeanour for an eerily calm one. “Who are you?”

“Surprisingly blunt for a king.” The old man noted with a quite gleam in his blue eyes. “I think, though, you’ll be more accepting of what Mable wanted to tell you than who I am for the moment.”

“It is often that I find bluntness will get more done than the airs loved by most of the Council.” They began to walk. Towards the infirmary, the King noticed.

“Yes, humble as well. If only you were king in a lighter time than this.” He said as they turned down another corridor. This one decorated with pictures of the Prophetic Ones of old, the elderly man’s eyes lingered for a moment on the painting of the Prophet, holding his large crystal spoon. “Ah yes, it is a pity. You are no doubt a good king, Basyle, but I fear that Hyrule will need a great one in the days ahead.”

“I have my doubts.” Basyle sighed, “If I were a good king, how is it that Hyrule is like this? The nation is in shambles and a quarter of my people starve while another turns to crime. These are not the hallmarks of a good king, Master Prophet. They are all the signs of a poor one.”

“Ah.... Though, I insist that you call me Yazstromo.” He softly said, contemplating the King’s words. Basyle wished he felt awed by this man, but only felt dread. What could it mean that the Gods had sent the dead heroes of old to help them now? “But yes, before we go in there, I must tell you, Klaus is alive.”


	32. Chapter Thirty-One: Abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra and Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes:  
> Zeldaeinstein: Has it really been 8 months? Well, I've had this Chapter kicking around for a while, by our very own Tetromino [forum autocensor/correct from: Tetra], and had a mind to just add onto it. But seeing as it's a 'new' forum start, we might as well go ahead and give ya'll what I hope you still want: more FF!
> 
> I also have plans for the Fifth Anniversary in October, so be on the look out for that!
> 
> Chapter 31: Abound by **Tetromino** [forum autocensor/correction]

Morning sunlight poured through the window and Jaros stirred. Naomi was there, her head resting on her crossed arms at the corner of his bed. Her golden hair lay in disarray and her eyes had dark circles under them, but she slept; possibly the first time since they had left Amintor’s house. He knew she would not rest with the Twili about. He could not blame her; most of their kind could not be trusted.  
  
“Naomi…” His voice came out weak. He coughed and tasted blood, but that he could not blame that on the injury Will had given him. It had been bad, he knew. Will had caused him to lose consciousness, but that had been a blow to the head and a stomach wound. Perhaps, it had only made _it_ worse, Naomi would not like that.  
  
“I thought…” She rubbed her eyes, it had been too long since she last slept well.  
  
“That it was worse than this?” He smiled. “Or that my body healed so quickly. Naomi,” he took her hand, “I’m not so frail as to fall over from some—“  
  
“You did.” She said her eyes cold as iron and brow furrowed. She was worried, but then, she was always worried, especially when it came to him. “You need to be more careful.”  
  
“I suppose so.” He smiled. If she were someone else, he would have attempted getting up, but Naomi would not be amused. He had tried escaping her clutches the first time they meant then found himself tied to his cot, yelled at for his recklessness, and placed under guard by two Crandallian nurses. It was not the nurses that kept him there, but the determinedly fierce woman in charge of them.  
  
The Rito stood and grabbed a roll of clean bandages from her satchel. She helped him to sit up and expertly took off his old ones and threw them out. Then, with a sigh, she began to clean his wound. He was still losing a little blood, and from her strained expression, he knew he should have stopped bleeding hours ago.  
  
She redressed his wound: skillful, efficient, experienced. The little archer may have more power, yet he could not help but see her as anything but a child.  
  
“One day…”  
  
“Stop, Naomi.” He took her hands. “This will heal. Perhaps not as soon as either of us wants, yet…”  
  
“I know.” Her voice was gentle, kind. Not a trace of the sternness she often fiercely wielded. “Can you blame me for doubting your choice?”  
  
“I expected it, actually.” Jaros said. “Nao, if you did not, I fear you’d cause me to worry like you do.”  
  
She folded her arms. “You should. Jaros, I doubt the council thought that sending—no, allowing you to go off on this mission—would place you in worse shape than you already are.”  
  
“We both know they would not mind if I met a gruesome end sometime while gone off on this merry outing," He shook his head, it had been years since he had the respect he once commanded. "They may pretend to grief, but they’ll soon scheme all hell knows what if they aren't already.”  
  
“Jaros…”  
  
“Please,” he kissed her; after a moment, she closed her eyes, frustrated. He caught himself before he sighed, and gave her a false smile instead. “Then, help me up.”  
She did and retrieved a fresh coat from his pack. He watched her, the sunlight bringing out the gray in her hair and her pained stride. The cold was getting to her this morning, and her recently developed arthritis only made it worse. Yet, she was still keen, and wise, yet not wise enough. It happened so long ago…  
  
He caught the coat she threw over her shoulder with a magical net. That had not changed. Naomi turned around, looked at the coat lying there on the near-invisible net, and shrugged. “You should come up with something new.”  
  
“New?” He took the coat. “I'm much to old for that. What? Do you expect me to pick it up off the floor?"  
  
“You’d catch it.”  
  
“When injured?” With her help, he put it on. He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, “But it’s not like you to let your patients, or rather, me, leave your care so soon."  
  
"Ye are mistaken," She grinned fiendishly, "I never let my eye off you for a moment."  
  
"That is," he said quietly as she left him to button his coat, "when given the choice, my dear."  
  
Now, at the desk near the window, Naomi picked up a piece of parchment: a letter sealed with the Royal Seal of Hyrule. The Triforce glistened in the sunlight. She handed it to him.  
  
“Ah, Tap asked that you—we?—help her in the wards at the Castle? I doubt I can do much.” He scanned over the letter again then chuckled, the poor child was almost pleading. “I suppose King Basyle knows the truth about them then..."  
  
"I can't leave you unsupervised," She threw their satchel over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes. "It was Yazstromo's doing, he might not know she got this sent. Carriage?"  
  
Jaros nodded. He doubted that she needed his consent for a decision she had clearly made earlier that morning. "We're late as it is, I fear, though I had thought we were meant to arrive there days ago..."  
  
***  
  
They had decided not to wake the still-slumbering Ambassador. Bronzen had spoken against this and Tap had agreed, leaving him in the ward with Daedus in case he woke while they were gone. They had left Tap there too, Yazstromo had told her to rest, concern lacing into his voice as he placed an aged hand on her shoulder. Mable had been asked to find someplace where the red-clad woman could sleep. He had noted her pale face and the shadows under her eyes as she waved them farewell and followed after Mable as they headed towards the King’s study. Somehow, he doubted she would listen.  
  
“If she eavesdrops, I’ll make sure to ask Naomi to give her a punishment she won’t forget. Or I’ll turn her into a toad.” Yazstromo grinned, showing his shockingly white teeth as the others gave the Prophetic One odd looks. “Oh, did I say that out loud?”  
  
The sparkle in his eyes said yes, and that he had done so quite on purpose. Bronzen chortled, and even the King and his Advisor smiled, yet Benjamin could not find it in himself even to feign amusement.  
  
Perhaps it was because James’ face was only half-healed or that Bronzen still wore his arm in a sling after insisting that Tap tend to the others first. Perhaps it was the harsh truth that he felt the demon might appear at any moment and not even the mysterious return of these two Prophetic Ones could halt its advancement.  
  
“How many are you?” James asked. He had insisted that he needed to come along despite that both Mable and Tap had tried to stop him. Benjamin and Bronzen had agreed with the squire and Tap had only sighed. She was the least stubborn healer the Captain had ever meant.  
  
“Three.” Yazstromo answered. “Naomi came with her husband, some fellow called Jaros from who-knows-where, I still can't say I expected she was still married. But wherever Mervil is, I can’t say.”  
  
“What about Kaz?”  
  
“Don’t you read books, lad?” James frowned at his words, he rarely read and was near illiterate, but the Prophet would not know this nor would the squire be forthcoming with it either. “He died a few weeks after we won. A shame, he was a good lad. It still makes the Innocent cry to be reminded of it.”  
  
The Advisor turned to the Prophet to speak something in his ear, while Yazstromo shook his head. The King cleared his throat gesturing them to enter his study. Sunlight filtered through the large, glass window overlooking a courtyard garden where a few flowers still blossomed and tall, ancient oak trees stood there their leaves turned copper and red. A few shelves filled with aged books were lined against the wall, while his desk faced away from the window, and on the other wall a small fire burned in the fireplace. Seven cushioned chairs were set before it, and Benjamin wondered when Basyle had sent for a servant or if the King’s study was always prepared for guests that rarely came.  
  
“James please get the door and leave us,” The King motioned for the squire to move and a sigh escaped him when he heard the young man call him ‘damn Old Man’ under his breath. Such mutterings, he had once remarked to Benjamin, were the main reason he still waited to make James a knight, but the excuse was little more than paper-thin. The truth was Basyle still felt weary about making a commoner a knight after the last one they had knighted became one of the most ruthless criminals in Hyrule. William was yet a mark of shame on the Knight’s Guild, not to mention James’ other peculiar qualities.  
  
“So, the fact that he was there when…whatever befell your knights was not the reason you brought him?” The Prophet asked, taking a seat near the fire and resting his feet on the long table in the midst of the chairs. He took out a pipe and began to smoke nonchalantly.  
  
The King said nothing concerning his odd behavior and the Advisor watched the old man with bright, golden eyes. Strange, he had never seen Klaus as excited as this before. “No,” Basyle said, “I was more weary of the council members eavesdropping than your friend. Whatever James might say can be included later.”  
  
“Oh, those whippersnappers really are a troubling bunch!” He laughed, but this time, no one joined him in his amusement (though Klaus did nod). A solemn air had now transcended on those present, and the King asked them to sit. Klaus went to sit behind the desk, but the king shook his head, gesturing for his friend to take the seat beside him.  
  
“Were it not for your wisdom, I would have asked you stay behind with Mable.” The King added his voice hinting that he was still thinking of asking Klaus to withdraw.  
  
“What happened?” It was Bronzen who asked.  
  
Klaus eyed Yazstromo for a moment before answering. “William Desesperacion fired at my carriage on the way to the executions scheduled for yesterday,” He rested his head on his hand looking as exhausted as Benjamin felt, “I recall little beyond waking this morning. Only that two of the Prophetic Ones of legend were indeed my rescuers…”  
  
“A friend of ours caught Desesperacion.” Yazstromo added.  
  
“Lord Amintor of Kakariko?” The King said and the Prophet gave him a nod. “Ah, so that story is true as well.”  
  
“And what is that, your majesty?” Benjamin asked. He did not like these tidings of some noble catching the most notorious criminal Hyrule had known in decades. How could this man have such skill with hunting the most wanted man in Hyrule? His men had tried to catch Desesperacion for years, only to return dead or injured but always empty handed. Usually, it was both. Yet, Benjamin had heard reports of a strange man, often wearing green, bringing in criminals that the knights had never dreamed would be brought to justice. It seemed that the coming of the Prophetic Ones only brought old mysterious to light.  
  
“From the rumors and reports, a man in green charged the assailant.” Klaus, to Benjamin’s mild amusement, was the one who answered. So, those were the papers he had requested from Thomas and Thomas had quickly gathered what he could and gave them to him. He had only a few moments to glance over them before the meeting, however. The King sighed as he too realized this, but this only caused Yazstromo and Bronzen to share an amused glance. “Yet, how is it you know him? From what little I have heard, he is a recluse who has barely involved himself in the affairs of Hyrule since his arrival from Kyzoon a decade ago. Though his name...”  
  
"One of his grandmothers came from Hyrule, or so he claimed. He had said she greatly respected the Prophetic Ones. Even that idiotic lad," answered the Prophet. Yet, something about this story seemed canned even to Benjamin's ears.  
  
“He sounds like a formidable warrior,” Bronzen added, and then shrugged when the others glanced at him. They could not be surprised by his words, however, Gorons were known for their respect of fighting men and this, Benjamin knew, was especially true of their Elder. “Even I have heard of the trouble this Desesperacion has caused for you and your kingdom before this.”  
  
“Oh!” Yazstromo said quickly. “He is a good fighter, perhaps you and Kazar could spare after all this business is over. He needs a beating or three to get rid of some of his arrogance, if you ask me.”  
  
The Goron grinned, but then his face darkened and he turned to the Captain who nodded briefly. “Dolomire and I agreed to guard Sir Jonathan and your knights because of the dangers the last group ran into when they tried to escort that Ambassador.” He gestured to his arm in his sling and to the bandaged wound near his heart. It would have killed him if he was not a Goron and Benjamin still wondered if it should have despite that fact. “We ran into the same…demon that attacked them.”  
  
“If it had not been for the Ambassador’s magic and our escorts, we would not have survived.” Benjamin said. “Most of our force did not despite what they did to help us escape.”  
  
Bronzen nodded silently, his mind no doubt dwelling on his companion who had died as they escaped the demon’s wrath. He had not spoken of it, and Benjamin had wisely not brought up the subject. Gorons felt that those who died in battle were not to be grieved but honoured. Yet he knew that Bronzen did both.  
  
“It is gone then?” The Advisor asked.  
  
“No.” Benjamin sighed. “It will chase the Ambassador until he is dead. Your majesty, we need to prepare and cancel the festival. We can’t risk the lives of innocents when—“  
  
“Captain, be silent.” The King stood, his voice thundered. “We cannot cancel it, the city is suffering from enough unrest and panic already, and if we change our plans now, it will only lead to riot in the streets when our people ought to be celebrating. If there is a repeat of Kakariko here, we will not be able to defend against your demon nor will he have much to destroy after what the people do to this city. By then, he may not have an Ambassador to kill.”  
  
“Kakariko?”  
  
“Will be discussed at another time,” Basyle continued. This was not Basyle the Meek, but the fearsome Basyle, who, in his youth, had fought the Gorons in the Second Gorauler War twelve years after they had formed their Protectorate. “You may put up extra defense as you, Bronzen, and the Guild Master see fit. Keep the Ambassador under guard.”  
  
The Prophet coughed, and all three turned. “May I ask, gentlemen, what this demon looked like?”  
  
“He wore a dark cloak and called himself Death.” Benjamin said.  
  
Silence spread after a brief murmur. They all knew what one another was thinking.  
  
_Could it be?_ The knight thought.  
  
Yazstromo gazed into the fire, resting his face on his folded hands. To Benjamin, it seemed that five hundred plus years of living weighed heavily on his shoulders, and his ancient eyes glowed with a dark, foreboding light.  
  
“It is not him.” He finally whispered, stirring the fire with his staff, causing embers to spring forth. “But something claiming to be him.”  
  
“Then Arivis has returned.” Klaus supplied. This caused the Prophet’s gaze to land on him, yet he returned it unbidden. “Were not the Prophetic Ones called forth by the gods to defeat him, First Advisor? And, if he were not defeated, then that may explain your longevity.”  
  
“Possibly.” The Scholar rubbed his bearded chin then shook his head, “But Mervil has judged him with his book and I don’t think that can simply be undone. Nor does your description fit him. He would not kill your men like this, Benjamin. It must be some doppelganger-demon that claims to use his likeness.”  
  
_It must..._  
  
The elderly man stood and leaned heavily on his staff, he nodded to the King. A plan, it seemed, was working in his head. “My companions and I will guard this Ambassador. You could say if anyone in Hyrule has experience with demons it would be us, King Basyle. Indeed, we’re the only ones with experience.”  
  
The King and Advisor agreed but Benjamin felt uncertainty. He, for one, thought the old man too idealistic and certain of his ancient friend, yet he kept this council to himself. It was better to trust Yazstromo’s wisdom, then to think he might be wrong.  
  
***  
  
“I must say,” Orilieus rubbed his temples as he spoke. “You have never been this late before.”  
  
His guest grinned. He had always, purposefully, been late whenever Orilieus asked him to meet him. “I ran into two…interesting ladies on the way. One swore to the gods she had met me before.”  
  
“I suspect you denied this…”  
  
“Yes, though she is right.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “It was around twenty years ago, and I wouldn’t have recognized her if it weren’t for that large mole on her left cheek. To think that his daughter would become a successful merchant when the last time I saw her she was more interested in spending every gold piece her father made…”  
  
This last part was said barely above a murmur and laced with regret. Yet Orilieus had learned in the last decade not to ask questions or give comfort to someone that despite appearances was far older than he could ever be. For that, admittedly, he was grateful. Few were older than him now.  
  
“Kyznian then?”  
  
He nodded. “They trade more readily with Hyrule in recent years than I would’ve ever expected from them. Damn, if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were looking for me.” He took a sip of the ale Orilieus had provided at the start of their meeting. The cup was oversized, taken from the Master’s own collection. Most of the mead in it was already depleted.  
  
This, he realized, was the first time he had seen the man drink any alcohol so readily. Yet, instead of mentioning it, he asked: “And what then will you do?”  
  
“Drink.” He answered with a bitter laugh. “No, but why, Orilieus, did you ask for me after having that bastard throw me in gaol? Hylian gaols aren’t exactly made for comfort, you know, they’ve never been.”  
  
“In fact,” he concluded, “they’ve gotten worse.”  
  
“That was Darius’s doing, not mine.” He answered. “To him, loyalty to the Archives and the treasures within will always matter more than protecting others or right and wrong.”  
  
“You blame him for the whole disaster?”  
  
Orilieus frowned. He knew how he might answer if the man were more somber, but doubt filled his mind now. “He may be ruthless, but no, I cannot. To some extent, the thieves, Darius, and I must all take blame for it. Had we been more prepared, perhaps, yes, it may be we could have prevented it.”  
  
“With what?” He asked. “More guards? More Scribes like him? You haven’t seen the thief, and if anything, I doubt you could have stopped him.”  
  
“You stole it?”  
  
“What use is some old, magical rock to me?” He folded his arms. “The thief’s name is Tiveri. A magician perhaps half as skilled as Yazstromo, but then again, you know more about magic than I. He might still be in the Capital City.”  
  
“No,” Orilieus shook his head, though he noted the thief’s name down. “He is gone. Last night, William Desesperacion left the gao—”  
  
“And you expect me to chase him down again?”  
  
“No, you may kill me were I to do so.” Orilieus said.  
  
Yet, the man shook his head. “I haven’t been that drunk for years.”  
  
Orilieus lifted the bottle. It was empty. He eyed his companion. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes.” That, he knew, would be the only answer he would get. It, however, was not what he had hoped for. “That can’t be the only one you’ve got.”  
  
Orilieus coughed. “Darius has gone, without orders, to hunt after them.”  
  
He frowned. “He got off his chain?”  
  
“So to speak,” though not a dog, but, he wisely, kept such words to himself. “Yet I must request your services.”  
  
“A demand.”  
  
“Yes, you may call it as you wish.” He sighed, “A request, a demand, it does not matter, you will do as I ask, Kaz Amintor. It may be considered a payment for not leaving you in the gaol until they had decided what to do with you for whatever part you played in this ordeal.” He carefully folded his hands atop the desk. “You will be my guest at this meeting I must intend with the king.”


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two: Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein
> 
> Original notes: (Also, sorry for the wait)

The medical ward of Hyrule Castle was more inviting than she remembered; the last time she walked this hall it lay broken and ashamed. Grand tapestries hung from the ceiling, some silk and others painted canvas. Symbols of victory, of the Royal Family, replaced her memories of maimed bodies, the rope and flesh dangling quietly from the rafters. Tap did not recognize this place and was grateful for it.

Mable and Daedus were reluctant to let her wander, but she fumed enough to change their minds. She had done all she could, the strangers she healed would recover in time, giving thanks and not much more. Rooms and rooms of the sick and dying only managed to suffocate her further.

“What do they know?” she huffed, turning into the medical arboretum. “I deserve to sit with that council just as Yazstromo does.”

The arboretum was one of many planted in honour of the Prophecy throughout the Capital. This one had no splendour, a small sphere of life inside cold stone walls. Tap had seen the one devoted to the Redeemed, Kaz, this one, however, merely housed a tall, lonely oak and flowerbeds. The tree’s branches shadowed the walkways and benches surrounding it in a tight circle, having littered them with an abundance of colourful leaves.

Tap gingerly took the staircase down into the greenery, the welcoming smell of damp earth wafting in the wind. The stone bench she chose to brood upon was cold and uninviting, save for a plume of familiar feathers.

“ _You hardly look impressed,_ ” Aracient’s tone was empty, as usual.

“No, not really,” she feigned a smile and crossed her arms. “I was there, you know, with Yazstromo, with the rest of them. I have every right to sit beside them.”

A short silence followed, the raven plucking absently at his wing.

“ _Don’t take it to heart. Yazstromo just wanted to spare you from a room of dusty, old noblemen. I heard him say it myself,_ ” he had not, but the sentiment was no less true.

A chilling breeze swept through the tiny garden, likely bringing the snow down the mountain any day now. Tap pulled her collar tight around her neck and looked down at her avian friend.

“I’ve been wondering,” she started. “Who were you before? I mean, what was your name before you...”

“ _Died?_ ” he finished. “ _I wish I could say, but I have spent enough effort in keeping what memories I do have. The others can’t speak to you anymore, their spirit simply won’t allow it,_ ” a twinkle akin to Yazstromo seemed to cross his beady eyes. “ _But I have many stories to tell, even if I can’t remember who I am._ ”

The Innocent sighed, another mystery she could never solve. She slumped back in the uncomfortable seat and crossed her arms, finally content with being left out of Yazstromo’s meetings. “My schedule is empty, why don’t you tell me a little story you do remember?”

Aracient sharpened his claws on the stone beneath him, pausing before speaking. “ _I’m more interested in what you have to say, my lady. Surely you have a tale or two to tell._ ”

Tap wrinkled her brow trying to think of a story to entertain a raven. What a queer thing to be doing, she thought. But it did make her smile more. In the rush of the Capital only Aracient seemed to care for her business, if she were even there or not.

“You know, I’ve been back in Hyrule for quite a while and I haven’t heard much of what we did, my friends and I. At least I thought I’d hear some embellished accounts, not anything at all,” Tap began. “There are just those statues,” she grumbled. “I probably don’t even have one.”

“ _Then tell me how your story goes._ ”

“I thought you already knew,” Tap scoffed. “Knew about us while you were alive, I mean,” Aracient just turned his head as if he had not heard the question, encouraging her to continue. “Fine. There isn’t much to tell anyway. My friends and I were just kind of caught up in the whole thing.”

“I met Kaz, or Kazar as he calls himself now, one afternoon; his friend, Railin, was there, too. The circumstances were... less than perfect. They met up with Mervil and learned to regret it. I had heard stories about some vigilante but they were proof enough that he existed,” she smiled sheepishly. “I patched Kaz up and went to the Autumn Festival. I had been looking forward to it all summer: the crowds, the food, and especially the music. I’d never have guessed they would still be having these things, either.”

“ _They are just as beautiful as they were back then,_ ” Aracient added. “ _Once they were dedicated to you and your friends, but time forgets heroic deeds far too easily. I am sure this year will be different. I can tell Yazstromo will make that happen._ ”

Tap laughed, trying to abandon terrible memories. “That old coot hasn’t changed since we met, you can always count on him. Things would have been very different if he had not been a part of us. Mervil even liked him, though he would never admit that.”

“ _You do not think highly of this Mervil, I take it?_ ”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” she lied. “Mervil was very different from the rest of us. Naomi, Kaz, Railin, Galysses, Yaz; we all managed together just fine. We nicknamed him Death, dark and gloomy and too serious,” Tap sighed a long and calculated tune. “But he _was_ responsible for all of us meeting. And all of this,” she spread her arms wide, grasping for the vast kingdom beyond the walls.

“And as much as I hate to say it, he had love in his heart. Somewhere very, very deep,” she was frantic for redeeming memories, relying only on the way she would sometimes catch him looking to Naomi. “He was prepared to sacrifice himself for Yazstromo. We never could figure why, though. And apparently a long time ago Naomi found something in him I wouldn’t have guessed,” Tap shook her head at the idea, there was only one Mervil she knew, anything else was nonsense.

Aracient clicked his beak and took a new perch across from the Innocent.

“ _I’m sure you’re full of surprises, too, my dear.”_

“You must know about that night, that Festival I mean,” Tap continued quietly. “The King murdered in a drunken stupor; none of us know what exactly happened after that. One second we were with the screaming crowds and the next we were hundreds of miles away.”

The halls of Crandall were old and cold in her mind. Her memories of Crandall afar were far and few between. _All the better,_ she mused.

“And I guess that is all,” Tap shrugged, standing into an elongated shrug. “I got to say, a lot of what happened after that seemed to be on a ‘need to know’ basis. Mervil, Yazstromo, and Naomi were always whispering, whispering and planning I guess. They led the way and the rest of us had to follow. We lost a few good people to the Demon along the way, a few not so good.”

_”I should think any loss would spell death back then,”_ the carrion quipped.

Tap quickly agreed, pushing the broken forms of old comrades out of her mind. “I was curious to the world they used to know, Mervil and the rest. But it always seemed too far away for them to remember right. Crandall still has a shadow over this place, I can feel it everywhere.”

Again, the eerie faces of Numen and the Fallen invaded her mood. The Innocent rubbed her eyes and began to step away, as if speaking of the old days made them real again.

“I was never more afraid...” she glanced back at the ever vigilant raven. The day she opened Mervil’s lock upon the Silver Sanctum rushed back, Death’s grip lingered ever greedy on her arm. “There were days I thought the Gods were prepared to carry me under. I never felt safe, even when the others did. We were never actually safe.”

“ _Galysses, the Fallacy, the Compass. You travelled with them, they fought and they died.”_

“Yes,” Tap replied flatly, feeling the tears well in her eyes. “Every day I felt like running, but I remembered where I was supposed to be. I deserve to be at that Council because I lived those days with Yazstromo and the others. I may not have been as important as them, but I stayed. I stayed, Aracient, that was more than I ever thought I could do with my life.”

“ _Then you should be on your way,”_ Aracient fluttered to a perch closer to the pacing Innocent. “ _People out in those streets will celebrate you being here later tonight. Plan and debate, there’s no need to run away again._ ”

Tap beamed and ruffled up her tunic. “I thought you had a story to tell me though.”

“ _No, not right now,_ ” he replied, slowly. “ _I only ask that you enjoy the festivities for me, Tap. I will tell you it some other day. I promise._ ”

Aracient took flight out of the courtyard, circling once as if to ensure that Tap, too, had fled to continue her new tale.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three: The War Forge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Zeldaeinstein

“In case I’ve gone daft, this report does tell me that no sooner than he hits the gaol stone, Desesperacion is gone, fled the City?!” Klaus barked, visibly weary. It had only been now that news spread of the midnight escape, their words of earlier disaster replaced by bitter new ones. He attempted to leave his bed, but the crowded ward hushed him back down. The entire Council had set up around his bedside, not to give well wishes or commend him for essentially rising from the dead, but to hound him with news.

Every nobleman in the City had gathered here, pressing themselves together to bicker and bemoan the turmoil of the day. Basyle could not keep them out of his study or this ward for any longer. He had no sooner retired with Klaus and the Second Convoy when the throngs of the Council inevitably followed.

“Yes, the guards reported a Darknut stormed the Tower and freed him,” a withered voice cut through the murmur. A man three hands taller than anyone else in the room approached fully cloaked in old battle hardened armor. He tapped his closed helmet in regards to Klaus.

Yazstromo coughed roughly, ribbing Naomi’s side. “Who’s that?”

“How am I supposed to know?” she whispered sharply, glaring down at his smirk.

“I can assure you I have my finest men in pursuit,” the Guild Master turned to the raucous response of the Council. “I value catching a criminal over having my Knights care for the drunks and whores your Festival is having tonight, mind you,” his voice crackled like a flame. “There is not a place in this Kingdom he could hide, Darknut at his side or not.”

Basyle nodded his approval, inviting Yazstromo, Naomi, and Kaz to join him. “I am sure that once the formalities are finished tonight, our new friends can join the fight. If I’m correct they have a few things to bring up with Desesperacion themselves.”

A few bewildered looks were cast among the Council at Basyle’s lot of companions. A swell of chatter began to rise, quickly snuffed out by the gauntleted hand of the Guild Master.

“And what would a bird, a nobleman, or an old man bring me, your Majesty?”

“You’d be surprised,” another new voice called genuinely. The sound startled the entire room. Orilieus entered, covered head to toe in rich blue dressings. His new companion eyed the audience closely, before settling a glare on Kaz. Darius appeared tired, clearly agitated to see both of his arrests were for naught. “I was almost tempted to let our Lord Kazar rot away in your dungeons, but I've recently found reasons abound to have him here.” Their late night meeting had only been provided after much goading by Orilieus with the Kakariko soldiers who had completed Kazar’s arrest.

Basyle suddenly fumed at the new guests. “You’re late,” he stated matter-of-factly, ushering the doors to be closed once more behind Kakariko’s Master. “But I suppose there could not be a better time to make sense of this sorry mess.” The murmurs swelled as the ward capacity continued to do so. Orilieus kept smiling, and Darius kept stoic and silent.

“Where do I begin?” Orilieus replied, pointing his staff at the Prophetic Ones in their company. “I have nothing more to tell than the facts we all know. As you said yourself, your Majesty, this lot will bring an end to our troubles. All of them.”

Darius scoffed and stepped forward. “I have all the reasons to disagree. ‘Lord’ Kazar has been running amuck in the name of the City and has done all but fail it. Does this council not take heart in the facts I brought to them last evening? This nobleman is a-,” the Scribe trailed off as the King motioned to speak.

“It is no secret that words of ancient folk have been spreading through the Capital,” Basyle said slowly. “We have placed far greater matters than a theft and a murderer in their hands, long, long ago. Whatever Lord Kazar has done, I truly believe it _is_ in the best interest of my subjects.”

Councilman Graydon chuckled sarcastically, milling through his colleagues. “Surely you are joking, my Liege. You expect this Council to swallow this unfounded optimism?”

“I do,” Basyle replied flatly. “Do you not see it in their faces? The age, no, better yet, the emotion they have standing here among us? Your belief in the matter does not change the facts. I should be kneeling to these heroes, as all of you should.”

Graydon looked on, baffled. Behind him the council dipped their heads, accepting what many would deem ridiculous. Klaus offered what little he could in a smile.

“The Gods above have returned these people here for a reason,” Klaus looked beyond the crowd, thoughts spread thin over all Hyrule’s turmoil. “Under the watch of the Sheikah, a great relic is lifted out of Kakariko by a Shadow not unlike themselves. Desesperacion returns to our streets attempting to murder our clerics. How could anyone deny our needs?”

“Even with a rekindling with the Protectorate, a monster tore through dozens of our brave knights and one of Bronzen’s finest warriors,” Basyle locked a concerned gaze with the Goron Elder, guarding the ward as if it were his own. “Walk the halls and you will see that the Prophetic Ones have leapt from their likenesses, sprung from the portraits and statues we once revered. I fear that this sorcerer, murderer, demon, whatever you wish to call him, is the reason we now see the impossible.”

The Guild Master reappraised the heroes he had cast aside moments earlier. Stepping forward, he placed a heavy gauntlet over his chest plate, bending to his knee in regards to the King and his Prophetic Ones. “Accept my apologies. If the King and the High Cleric decree it, I am not the one to call them fools. I will alert my men to answer to the needs of your heroes, your Majesty,” he lifted his great head and addressed Yazstromo directly. “As the Master of Hyrule’s knights, I personally request your acceptance into your service.”

Yazstromo smiled wide, and tapped his staff on the stonework beneath him. “No one said I was in charge,” he winked at Naomi, who merely huffed and folded her arms. “But I’ll gladly take the job, and your help. We can use all sorts of mighty beasts on our side, not against it.”

“And you can trust you have the support of my people,” Bronzen boomed from the far end of the ward, holding his great fist in the air. “My Protectorate will be like a second home to you all. When I have mended, I will gladly hunt this creature again. Our Brothers shall not have died for nothing.”

Orilieus clapped his hands together, looking to the King and to his sullen Scribe. “While you have had the hospitality of my city and my vigilant Scribes, I am certain we can solve all our problems so long as we continue this amiability. Where you find Desesperacion, you’ll find our Shadow, and where you find our Shadow, we will find our Stone.”

Lord Kazar bowed to the Grand Master and extended his hand for the Scribe’s. Darius hesitated at the formality and simply nodded.

“Already I have sent Scribes in my stead to follow Desesperacion, though the outlaw believes he’s worth my personal attention,” he addressed Basyle coolly. “Despite the Grand Master’s sentiments, I intend on remaining here in the Capital, so long as I know the Seeking Stone’s thief hides here. I am sure the gunman will provide nothing but his own death before he aids the cause. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do,” the Scribe made on his promise, showing himself out promptly.

The Council milled among itself, shocked at Darius’s aggressive display. Basyle took no offense; the bristling for the Royal Family shared by all Sheikah did not shake him. “First we will celebrate. I, for one, have had enough of this dark sod. This Council is dismissed. The next time I see any of you, you had better have a flask in hand.”

Bronzen and Orilieus accompanied the King back out into the ward, followed by the throngs of whispering councilmen. Soon, only the Advisor, the Prophetic Ones, and the Guild Master remained.

“While we are guests for the Festival,” Naomi began, holding the bridge of her beak. “I have to agree with Darius. We should be working to fix all of this mess. We never should have got involved with Ti-,” she caught herself with a hard glance from Kaz. “It might be better that we are out on the streets, helping the Scribes find this Shadow thief.”

“I would not worry about that, milady,” the Guild Master’s voice was ragged, as if he were a smaller man underneath his massive armour. “The Festival will be sufficiently patrolled. There will be no repeats of what happened during your own.”

At that, the door of Klaus’s room flew open with a gust of fresh air. Tap stumbled in, hacking violently to catch her breath. “What did I miss?” she flushed. “I got here as fast as I coul-,” the emptiness of the room finally sank in, and so did her face. “Oh, I guess I missed it."

“Nothing to worry yourself over, lass,” Klaus laughed from his bed, swinging his legs over to the slab beneath it. “You will find nothing but allies in these halls tonight!” For once the Advisor could feel an old light of hope coming down to the Hyrule he loved. Gorons, Knights, and heroes all together once again.

Kaz crossed the short distance to the Innocent and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her. “There’s a party out there. Why don’t you follow me this time?”

Tap was not quite so sorry she missed the meeting now. Outside, the first fireworks flew high.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four: Mayhem’s Masquerade, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes: Part II will be up tomorrow (or the day after, this chapter is over 10,000 words, so, we decided to cut it in two parts). Yup, the show is back on the road, kind of...

When Kaz invited Tap to join him in the festivities he hadn’t realized that Mable, the Head Nurse, had got wind of it. She’d ushered the Innocent off, insisting that a guest of the crown could not be seen in such ragged and tattered clothing. Tap hadn’t looked pleased, mumbling under her breath, but soon relented with a quiet sigh, a slight smile on her face.  
  
Now, two hours later, he found himself waiting outside of the room Mable had led Tap to. Before the Head Nurse had slammed the door in his face, he had caught a glimpse of what was inside. Near one wall, hung dresses of various styles, colors, and lengths hanging on racks, while the other was lined with shelves filled with powders, perfumes, strange bottles and small boxes. In the midst of this room stood a straight-backed, graying woman in a severe gray dress and two attendants in blue. The aging woman glared at him, told him to wait, and ordered _Mable_ to shut the door.  
  
He pitied Tap. Her face had been distraught when she saw the contents of the room. When was the last time she’d worn a gown? Had she ever? At least when his daughters had gone to their first ball, they’d had years of practice. Their first balls had been generally low key affairs; Tap was being dragged to the ball-version of a bear’s den. She probably hadn’t danced in a few hundred years.  
  
“Still waiting, eh?” Kaz turned, Naomi now wore a simple blue dress, though the skirt was long and full, designed for an old woman of the court. He noticed that it was held together with white thread at the side. It was a dress made to get out of quickly, then, in case she was called onto fight.  
  
“I was comparing this to when my daughters…,” Kaz stopped, noting the pained expression on his old friend’s face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a smooth, blank expression. “That makes me sound like a fool, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Only if you want to claim a five-hundred-year old woman as your kid.”  
  
“Ha,” he shook his head. Naomi gave him a smug but pointed smile. “Right. Now, where were you?”  
  
Naomi lifted her eyebrows. “I asked Yazstromo about that demon the guards met returning from the Highlands.”  
  
Kaz frowned. “Not good?”  
  
“He said it’s something claiming to be Death,” Naomi said, her voice nearly a whisper as a servant approached them, carrying a platter covered with various drinks. She took a glass of wine off the top of the tray. “And the king thinks it fine to party and play with a man like that on the loose.”  
  
Kaz remained quiet. Could it be that Mervil would turn against Hyrule? Or was this some kind of trick, played by a sorcerer claiming Death's mantle? Nonetheless, a chill overcame him; it had not occurred to him that if they ever met Mervil again, he might not be on their side. Though Kaz had never considered the man kind, Hyrule would not stand if Mervil had chosen to condemn it.  
  
“Aye, I see it leaves you speechless,” she said with a hint of amusement tainting her voice. “And I thought you’d never close your mouth. If it is him…”  
  
“I’ve been betrayed before, numerous times,” Kaz said. “We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”  
  
“I’ll talk sense into his thick head. If he thinks—“  
  
The door finally opened. Naomi grinned like an approving mother, the Innocent returned the Rito’s expression with a shy smile. She slowly walked out, looking down at her dress as though she was worried she might trip over her crimson skirts. Cut in the modern style, it was tight around her waist and bust, the low neckline showing off her cleavage. A large white ribbon tied around the waist and the skirt opened in front, showing off her white petticoats beneath.  
  
“Staring’s rude, Kaz.” Tap folded her arms across her chest.  
  
He blinked. He wasn’t staring, really, he was just _looking_. A man had a right to look at a beautiful woman in a dress, didn't he? He could take a lingering glance at something that was made to show off the curvature of her breasts, hips, and buttock. If anyone asked, he was _not_ blushing; men his age didn’t blush in the presence of pretty women.  
  
He pretended to sneeze a few times so he could turn his head and cover his face with his arm. “Have they set you free yet?” He asked as nonchalantly as he could manage once he had regained some measure of control. Kaz focused on her dark eyes as he said: “Or do they need to teach you to walk in that thing, again? Some women have a terrible time from what I hear, it’s a sill—“  
  
He caught her hand mid-slap in a firm grasp.  
  
“You’re not supposed to catch a girl’s hand when she does that!” She cried, but her eyes glittered in amusement. Her large, black eyelashes had been brushed just so to make her eyes that much more beautiful. The makeup was flawless, adding to this effect. He felt another sneeze come on and turned his head.  
  
Naomi laughed.  
  
“I’ve gotten kind of good at that sort of thing.”  
  
She giggled. Kaz dropped her hand, but got a quick slap on the wrist regardless. Darn women, couldn’t let them go for a second without an attack. “And being pretentious to lovely women.”  
  
He said that last bit with a broad, mischievous grin. Naomi rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Off with you two, then.”  
  
“Wait, what are you going to do?” she asked.  
  
“Ask questions,” answered the Rito, “I want to know exactly what those soldiers saw. No, I need to.”  
  
“And I’m not adult enough to know? I’m still the Innocent. Just a kid who’ll never mature in my…betters’ minds?” Tap’s eyes darkened, walking up to the older woman and craning her head up to meet the Rito’s hard expression. Even with her hands on her hips, though, the short girl did not look the least bit opposing compared to the towering Rito standing before her.  
  
Despite that, the woman sighed, relenting. “It’s not that we wish to keep it from you.”  
  
“Naomi thinks it may be Mervil who attacked the Ambassador,” Kaz said, “Don’t glare at me like that. You may have led us to victory alongside Mervil and the Prophet, and fought his forces in a war in some bygone time, but this path isn’t smart. Keeping important information from an ally that has every right to know it only leads to foibles. Anger. Distrust. Fear. Miscommunication, my lady, is oft the doom of armies.”  
  
“Aye,” Naomi smiled wistfully. “To think you’d lecture me.”  
  
“Don’t treat me like a child, Naomi Goldenwing,” the smile vanished at Tap's voice, her gaze smoldering instead. It was the very look that she had sometimes given Death when they fought in the old days. Grim satisfaction filled him; she needed to get off her high horse. “In the future, you must not keep any secrets from me or her. Tell that to Yazstromo when you see him, please.”  
  
Naomi stood there in silence for a moment, turned, and stalked down the hall until she ran into a white and black clad servant. She gave him an order in a harsh voice, commanding him find a man named James.  
  
“Gods,” the Innocent shook her head. Right, he would have to stop calling her that as well. “I thought only Mervil could get her that mad.”  
  
“Oh, so, I’m the new Mervil, correct?”  
  
“What? You’d have to be a lot more grim.”  
  
“Thank Din.”  
  
She laughed, taking his arm at last. “We need to go. If I have to wear this frilly thing, then the least I can do is show it off.”  
  
He smiled down at Tap and her bulging skirts. “I’ll call a coach.”  
  
***  
  
Being in places he was not supposed to be had always been a particular talent of his, although Jaros feared he’d gotten a little clumsy at it over the last few centuries. Naomi had done quite a good job of putting an end to most of his skulking and spying on other members of the Council of Elders. She thought it was bad for his health, and unbecoming besides for the man they had chosen to lead them. It did not matter that it was part of the game they played; to his Naomi, his “health” mattered more than the proper guidelines of good politicking.  
  
She may have been right, but she couldn’t expect him to follow her rules all the time. She knew he was awfully bad at listening to them in the first place; it was a side effect of old age, after all. Thus, he had slipped out of the old wizard’s guestroom as Naomi prodded Yazstromo for information. He drew on a little Starlight to make himself near invisible and then closed the door behind him silently. Once outside, Jaros forged an illusion, making himself look like a young servant washing the stone floor nearby. Both invisibility and illusion were one of the simplest and easiest tricks for him to perform: they were based merely on manipulating the way that light reflected off of him or some other surface.  
  
Personal _Illusionment_ was the simplest form of Starlight magic.  
  
Soon he slipped into the servants’ corners, grabbing a wooden bucket and a cloth. Stepping out into the hallway, he took his first left. A moment later he nearly slammed into a young woman with bright, red hair and a quite full figure. He should know, nearly falling on his rear from the impact.  
  
“’C…cah-cuse me,” Jaros tried to put on the mask of an awkward and shy servant. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Lord Ashtar is? I was told to guide him to his rooms; though, I can’t say I know where those are either.” He gave her his best helpless expression.  
  
The maid sighed. “You, Tyran? I’m shocked Lorene still trusts you with such things!” she shook her head in disbelief. “Go, but don’t get lost. The Ambassador’s in the small library on the west side, you know, the one on the second floor and just to the right. His rooms are right ‘round there too, you know where the guestrooms are, right? It’s the good one though, ‘pparently some lord and lady from nowhere are staying in the one’s they were supposed to give to him.”  
  
“Oh…ah…yes, of…of…course,” he replied, adding a nervous stutter, then a blush, making the red head sigh once again.  
  
“Just go,” she said, “and don’t let me find those floors unwashed either!”  
  
He gave her a quick nod, then scurried towards the servant’s stairway that she had pointed at while giving him directions. It was a poorly lit and terribly steep staircase that curved into the side of the castle. By the time he reached the top he had placed a hand on his stomach, leaning against the cool stone. The wound hadn’t reopened, though it now pained him.  
  
Jaros took a deep breath. Once such an injury wouldn’t have been a bother, neither would a staircase have left him winded. He sighed. There was little he could do about either. Naomi, however… He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and entered the library, leaving his bucket near the door.  
  
It wasn’t a small room by any means, despite what the ginger servant had said. The library had a domed roof and two rows of slim white columns that did not quite reach the ceiling. On either side beyond these columns there was a series of large bookshelves, which he passed as he headed deeper into the poorly lit library. At the end of the columns he reached a large opening filled with ornate tables. Nobles supped happily in the multicolored sunlight that poured in from above. Three beautiful stained glass windows stretched across the ceiling, depicting the Sacred Realm and the Triforce in purples, pinks, gold, and brown.  
  
Small indeed, he thought in amusement as he looked upon the guests and the sweeping scenery above. Using his disguise to be little more than invisible to noble eyes, Jaros began his search. There were a few ambassadors from other countries among the nobility at these tables, but none of them had Ashtar’s vivid green eyes or his garb. Jaros frowned, was forced to get a noble a drink or cake a few times, but then noted a set of double doors near the windows that lead out to a balcony.  
  
Quietly, he snuck outside. Taking note of the fresh Autumn air and…the smell of food. He turned. There, on the balcony, not too far from the doorway, Ashtar and the Master of Kakariko sat at a table lunching together.  
  
_What an odd pair._ Jaros thought, changing his illusion so that he looked like the bricks of the castle before they spotted him. Curiosity had filled him when he learned that the lone Ambassador had survived the attack by the creature his wife dubbed Mervil. If it were him, he wondered how a mere man, sorcerer though he might be, had lived while all his men perished. Few people lived who had faced Mervil head on, and even those who did often had a Mark to show for it.  
  
He could only name two who had not.  
  
“That is a strange question, Lord Ashtar,” Orilieus said, taking a sip of his wine and frowning as if it was too bitter. Perhaps the conversation had been bitter instead.  
  
“Is it?” Ashtar asked. “Certainly you’ve heard of the legends of the Stone. My people tell of them in the north, though, of course, it is fictitious. Such a marvel as that cannot truly exist…” He laughed. “A stone that can find your heart’s desire? Nonsense. If it did…”  
  
Ashtar stopped speaking and then sulked, glancing around the balcony warily. The man’s eyes lingered on Jaros for a moment, but he shook his head. For a Hylian he was perceptive, most people wouldn’t notice that the light did not quite hit the wall correctly... Ashtar picked up his fork, but instead of eating his fish, he stared at its head. “I always feel as if he’s watching me. Any moment, he will come. Have you ever felt like that?”  
  
The Master of Kakariko sighed, no doubt having heard such mutterings several times in this conversation. “I am sure you have heard of this,” Orilieus sounded weary, like a man who wished he was anywhere else besides dining with this particular ambassador. He must have thought it was a way to serve the crown, a crown that had found his service lacking of late. “But a stone like you describe was stolen by a thief a few days hence. Though, it could only track treasures of magical origin and, perhaps, mages. I doubt the Seeking Stone is the same as the one your people speak of. It’s a Sheikah artifact, nothing more.”  
  
The Ambassador leaned in slightly. “It is better than speaking of that demon…”  
  
Orilieus coughed. “If it comes, you will be safe here. There are mighty folk in the halls tonight.”  
  
“Safe?” Ashtar laughed bitterly. “So, then, you think that these…”heroes” can stop it? Well, perhaps…”  
  
The man’s eyes were on him again. He decided it was better to leave than chance it. Perhaps he was just a little out of practice, or… Jaros shook his head; no one here should have been able to see him. Maybe Naomi was right after all. He had grown paranoid, but if one thing was for certain, he felt he had to find the one who held the Seeking Stone. And to do that, he allowed the stars to guide him.  
  
***  
After Desesperacion had shot the High Cleric, Tiveri had thought it wise to leave his last safehouse. Fleeing with the Stone, he made his way to the darkest area in the Old Capital: the Shades. Here, he could hide a bit longer. They still wore their hoods here, despite the day’s festivities, and no guards walked these streets. No one cared that another criminal had joined their ranks. But even here, among the shadows, the outlaws, and prostitutes, Darius could still find him. For the Twilit, there was nowhere safe. Nowhere he could hide, instead, he needed to keep moving.  
  
He could only rest in his second lair for a few more moments. If he didn’t move soon, that light-blinded Darius would find him. With a sigh, he snuffed out his pipe, placed it inside his cloak, and covered his head with his hood before heading out into the grime covered side street. Looking both ways, he saw no one in the ally aside from an old beggar. He did not give him a rupee. The old man would die tonight, no matter what he did. One rupee could not help him. Why should he spare so much for a man who could give him nothing?  
  
Instead, he ignored the begging man and headed deeper into the alleys and tunnels that made up this part of the Shades, passing by others of questionable reputation. No one looked his way. One or two tried to pickpocket him, but he left them with a sprained wrist instead. He didn’t have time to deal with such light-blinded idiots. The sun was setting; he needed to reach his lair quickly. He crossed a main street crowded with people, shops, and festivities.  
  
_How can they stand such noise? Such clamor?_ He thought as he ducked down another narrow alleyway. Hyrulings were the most unfathomable creatures. In the Twilight, their festivals were beautiful affairs. The immortal queen in all her beauty and allure, hair of flame, eyes of ruby, beauty unmatched. The palace filled with somber music, tales of old, and ancient ritual. These fall festivals could not compare, they were only an echo of Twilight’s darkling nocturne.  
  
To live and walk in this too bright world, it was a nightmare he would not wish on another. Yet, it was one he had to live in himself. Tiveri finally came to another alley filled with boxes and crates. The first stars blinked to life over head. Unlike all the other dingy streets, all with their own seedy graffiti, this one had a single symbol carved into the wall. It was an ancient Twili rune, unassuming nonsense to anyone else in this kingdom. All he had to do was press the bricks in the correct order and—  
  
Unexpectedly, the Seeking Stone felt warm under his cloak. Tiveri pulled it out, bathed in its bright light, casting his and other strange shadows throughout the alley. Something, no, _someone_ powerful was nearby.  
  
_So soon?_ He asked, receiving no reply.  
  
_Why, did you think you could hide from him forever?_  
  
_It is not that._ He looked over his shoulder. The alley was empty. Whoever it was was not here yet. _If we do this quickly, we may still escape him._  
  
_Escape? No, you know that will not work._ He sighed, trying to ignore the voice as he put in the magical combination. _It wouldn’t be impossible to take him if we got him by surprise…Laced lightning into his spine, blast his head off with a well-timed bolt. It is within our power. You must not forget that you are no weak Hyruling._  
  
_Perhaps, but neither of us is ready for a confrontation._  
  
He felt a surge of relief as the bricks lit up before him. The door too, also lit slightly, and then slid open silently. As long as Darius wasn’t hiding behind one of the many boxes or crates, he might be safe. Safe for one night, that was. Before he entered, however, he heard a creak and saw something shimmer in the moonlight. He gathered lightning in at the tip of his fingers, and threw it at the shimmering figure. It disintegrated; defused by a shield made of silver light. He felt shock, and perhaps fear, but readied another lightning bolt.  
  
_It seems your luck’s run out, Tiviri._ An unwelcoming thought. In the shadows at the other end of the narrow alley, a figure emerged. For a moment, he seemed to be a shadow himself, but soon he took on the form of a cloaked man, a dark hood hiding his face. The man lifted his hand, signaling Tiviri to stop. He would not. Did this man think him a fool? He eyed the man warily, fear falling to his stomach like a chunk of ice. _How did he find me?_  
  
_He is like Hyruling Darius._ That much was obvious.  
  
_Hyruling Darius would have done more to stop our attack,_ he concluded and slowly lowered his hand.  
  
The stranger nodded, lowering his hood. Brown hair, tall, and a plain face; the man was perhaps the most ordinary being he had ever met. Or, so the man’s glamour _informed_ him. The first time he had seen him, Tiviri had not sensed such power, now, he wondered if the face he saw was also a lie. What did a Lyos look like underneath the shell they displayed?  
  
“If…it may seem odd that I found you,” Jaros said. He took out a folded piece of paper from a pocket sewn into his cloak. “I found this in your last hideout.”  
  
Jaros unfolded the sheet. It was a small map of the Shades, one that marked his lairs throughout the city. Tiviri had kept it for personal reference, and in his haste, had left it behind. He took it hastily and stuffed it inside his cloak.  
  
“Not that I exactly expected a thank you from…one of the Twilight Folk,” Jaros said, a hint of distaste coloring the man’s voice. “But we must move with haste, or at least, go inside.” He pointed to the open doorway. Darius left the meeting this morning, and while he isn’t here…”  
  
“You have joined him in his pursuit?”  
  
“You haven’t must choice but to trust me, Twili.” That statement, at least, rung true. “It is not safe in the open for you or I; if that Scribe found us together we both would hang.”  
  
“Then why associate with one of my kind?”  
  
“Hmmm, if one has the same disdain for you that you show for us, we have no right to hold that opinion?” He asked, ducking under the short door and into the dark room.  
  
Tiviri soon followed, closing the magical door behind him. He lit a few stumps of old candles on the table, and sat on the rickety three leg stool. Jaros had found the bed, already seated before the candle light filled the darkness. He hadn’t had a problem with seeing in the dark, it seemed, unlike other light-blinded fools.  
  
“Yes, you are not trapped in an enemy realm. In this dreaded land of sunlight, of green things, and light-dwellers.” He spat, taking out his pipe. “That map has many places which I have marked throughout the Shades. You could not have guessed this one.”  
  
Jaros eyed the piped. “What kind of pipeweed do you prefer?”  
  
That…was not the question he had expected. Light-dwellers were not allowed to catch him off-guard _twice_ in one evening, but Jaros was unnerving. He frowned. “Why should that matter?”  
  
“Matter? Ah, you…would not understand that. No small talk with a Twili.” Somehow, the word sounded more like a slur when he used it. “I once smoked myself,” he said, “but Naomi claims such habits are bad for my health.”  
  
What a strange couple. “That does not answer my question.”  
  
“I understand, no small talk,” he said, a cold, odd smile on his face, “You might say that a fairy guided me.”  
  
Jaros removed something from his coat. It was a long coat much too long to fit into it, except if he had hidden one of those bottomless bags in it or used the same magic on his pocket. For someone from this world, it was a clever use of magic.  
  
“Or not,” Jaros said, “As long as I know your name and face, and you happen to be outside on a cloudless day, I can use the stars to track you. The stars do not sleep while the sun shines.”  
  
Tiviri cocked his head to the side. Curious, perhaps the power Jaros claimed to have and Darius used were related.  
  
“And what is that for?” He pointed at the coat with his pipe.  
  
“You will need to put this on.” Jaros passed him the coat. It had a long neck, tall collar and a heavy mantle. “To create an illusion for another person is a difficult task, it’s neither easy to maintain nor simple… What is it?”  
  
“By the blasted light,” Tiviri said, “if it were possible why did you not use this plan three days ago?“  
  
“You’re a Twili; proud, obnoxious, shunning the Light. Why should I risk it? I am not so young that you could not injure me if I were ill-prepared or if I did not find you under the cover of darkness…” Jaros frowned. “While disguising yourself as a Hylian—a man with a different face—would protect you against Darius and his magic. This magic is…somewhat fragile, you may say. It’s linked to me. The illusion will begin to fade if you are further than thirty feet, it will dissolve once you’ve left a hundred foot radius. There’s some risk for me as well…I would prefer not to fall unconscious merely because you desire to test its bounds.”  
  
“I see.” He removed his cloak, and put on the heavy, yet fine, wool jacket. “The Ritoling would not approve of that, I take it?”  
  
“No,” he sighed, “she wouldn’t approve of this either. It will drain me too much. ‘You’ll die faster’, et cetera et cetera.” He waved his hand in a weary fashion. “All healers are like that, I suppose, but a man only has so long to live…”  
  
“Then, why?”  
  
“I wish to keep an eye on it, that Stone you covet so much. And you. I do not trust Darius with the Stone; I think his motivation is more than just to reclaim an artifact of his people. He is a Scribe of considerable strength and influence. In a fight, you might die, or you might defeat him. Either way, it isn’t in my best interest to test that.”  
  
Strange as the Lyos was, Tiveri would take his magic. If it meant one step closer to getting Darius off his tail and returning home, he would do whatever needed to be done. Even if he must wear the face of a Hyruling.  
  
“How would this work?” he asked.  
  
The man gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I did it ten minutes ago.”  
  
Tiviri’s eyes widened. He had felt nothing. No change, not even the slightest touch or tingle of magic. It must have happened when they entered the room in the wall. It was more subtle a spell than any he had seen on this side of the Gate.  
  
“And if you hadn’t agreed, it would’ve killed you,” Jaros said rather bluntly, “Come, we’ll be late for the ball if we stay here…”  
  
“And Naomi will disapprove of our arrangement?”  
  
“Yes, that is so.” He stood, dusting off dirt from his cloak. Jaros made for the doorway and slid it open without a moment’s hesitation. “She won't be happy, we’re quite late already.”  
  
Tiveri smiled with his new face.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Four: Mayhem's Masquerade, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author: Tetra
> 
> Original notes: It's like a MOVIE with two PARTS!

Tap took in her surroundings as she and Kaz made the rounds of the Castle grounds in their private coach. Ornate carriages, some inevitably more beautiful than theirs, had lined the long drive up to the Castle gate. The woman wore equally ornate and beautiful dresses, their hair up in seemingly simple styles, silver and gold pieces often holding it in place. Many, it seemed, were voluptuous and stunning, as though these elite women were not only wealthy, but also more gorgeous than the norm. For a moment Tap felt a twinge of jealousy; they seemed to emphasize her short stature and her flatter chest. Five hundred years, she was five hundred _bloody_ years old, by now she should have been over these things.  
  
_It’s the dress. The idea that I won’t live up to their expectations._ She wrung her silk handkerchief between her hands. A gift from the attendants who had provided her with this dress for the banquet, now, she understood why she needed the thing. It wasn’t in case she cried, but to keep her calm.  
  
“We’ll be at the entrance in a minute.” Kaz squeezed her arm, pointing. A footman approached their carriage, clad in black with only a hint of a white beneath his coat. Tap sat up straighter, eyeing the door expectantly. It clicked open and the footman bowed.  
  
Kaz produced a small card from his coat pocket. On the back Tap spotted the seal of the Royal Family, an _official_ invitation, one, she guessed, the royal family had sent to all the nobles, knights, and advisors invited to this special occasion. It had to have been printed from the newly minted presses she had heard so much about these last fifty years.  
  
“Welcome Lord Amintor, and?” The footman raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Lady Elle Lebrant,” said Tap. That was the name they had finally settled upon. She’d barely agreed to use a different name than Tap, but, she guessed there was some sense to it. None of the nobles would be as easily swayed as the Advisor and the King to believe who she truly was.  
  
The footman nodded, offering her a hand and she took it, carefully lifting her skirts and petticoats so she wouldn’t trip and make a complete fool of herself in front of the nobility. At least having done this a hundred-thousand times today (or so it seemed), one could now call her an expert. A moment later and Kaz was at her side, taking her arm almost greedily. The pathway before them was lit by several translucent glass lamps on top of tall posts.  
  
“What are those?”  
  
He leaned down then whispered into her ear. “Fairy Lanterns. They don’t use actual fairies; it’s apparently based on one of the Advisor’s projects.”  
  
She nodded, urging him forward when she noticed a few nobles staring at their odd coupling. Normal nobles wouldn’t be interested in something that they’d seen a thousand times. Sure, Lord Amintor was a recluse and Elle was quite new to court, but even they shouldn’t be unaware of these new lanterns, commonplace in the Kingdom.  
  
Once they entered the Castle another footman gave them directions to the main hall, the place where the Fall Banquet was being held. The sound of swelling music reached her ears. It was a rhythmic dance piece, one so old that Tap could remember dancing to it when Xanath and his archer clan were still alive. Soon the music was accompanied by a buzz, the buzz of hundreds of voices. Finally, they entered the hall proper.  
  
The last time Kaz and Tap had stood in this hall, the stained glass windows above had been shattered by the demon. Now, they stood there, centuries old once more. Magnificent and beautifully remade, each one was lit by a large lantern so the nobility could witness their splendor. Each panel displayed scenes from legend, and there, in the center of the ceiling, Tap could see their ancient journey unfold: Mervil in his dark cloak, the Staves of Sun and Moon in hand as he fought a faceless evil.  
  
Tap shook her head, pulling her gaze down and back to the present. _It’s time to forget_  
  
“Tap?” Kaz asked, keeping his voice low. Maybe he was ready to forget as well.  
  
“Oh, right.” They’d agreed to dance before they rejoined Yazstromo and the others. Tap was sure one flump around the dance floor couldn’t hurt. “C’mon!”  
  
She led them through the crowd, nearly running despite her dress. Kaz sighed, but easily quickened his step, taking long strides beside her and somehow managing to look natural despite their hasty pace. _How many excited girls has he taken to these things?_ She would’ve huffed, except that she was certain the nobility would consider it unladylike. _Stupid nobility. When we’re done, I’ll huff—_  
  
A rogue piece of petticoat tripped her. Tap tumbled, her fall broken by a strong hand around her waist and the firm, straight back of a nobleman wearing a black coat. That man, however, was not so lucky. He stumbled forward, crashing into a servant carrying a large silver platter. Little sandwiches and other treats (Kaz called them hors d'oeuvres) flew, splattering on the two Prophetic Ones and the nearby guests.  
  
“You!” The man pointed. Tap blanched.  
  
“S…sorry…” She trembled, turning her head.  
  
Kaz placed a strong, broad hand gently on her shoulder. “It isn’t your fault.”  
  
The young man glared, speaking with a strange, foreign accent. “Not her fault! What? Old man, I get that’s your daughter and you want to save your reputation, but please…she’s just clumsy!”  
  
“Clumsy! I’m not clumsy! And what do you mean, ‘daughter’?” She looked at Kaz. Sure, he looked older than she did (and perhaps older than he should), and the grey in his beard and fine lines developing next to his eyes didn’t help, but he didn’t look _that_ much older than her. It wasn’t like she was sixteen anymore.  
  
“Granddaughter?” Some of the young men around them laughed. Some of the young ladies covered their faces with their fans. Why hadn’t she gotten a fan? They had gathered a large crowd already.  
  
From this crowd, a woman with graying hair and a snobbish nose stepped forward. She gave the young man a stern look, before casting her hard gaze upon Tap. The Innocent turned up her head, meeting the woman stare for stare. Despite how stern and hard she might think herself, Tap knew she couldn’t match Naomi’s, the epitome of sternness and hard femininity. She didn’t hold a smothering whisk to the Rito, given a few more seconds Tap was certain she would overcome this woman. This noblewoman had probably never had a girl so ‘young’ stand up to her before. It would serve her right, losing this battle; finally, a small frown appeared on her rival’s face and they broke eye contact.  
  
“So _this_ is where I find you at last, Lord Amintor.” Her fierce gaze landed on Kaz.  
  
_What._  
  
“A pleasant surprise for the both of us,” he said, his expression growing hard.  
  
_This must be that Leah-person he was talking about._ The young man who had started to get up fell down once more, splattering wine on his fine coat and breeches He gasped, eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and awe.  
  
“We should get going, Elle.”  
  
“No,” Leah said.  
  
Kaz sighed. “Leah, no matter what business you have with me, it can wait until after this evening. I’ll still be here tomor…row…” The aging woman linked her arm with his. They made an awkward pair. Leah was an inch or two taller than him and as thin as a reed despite her age. Even with the flecks of gray in his beard, Kaz looked two decades her junior.  
  
“I’ll be fine!” he whispered through clenched teeth. The Innocent smiled at his discomfort, though she did feel a little pity for the ex-general. “Maybe, Lord, you can take me dancing instead.” She looked at the young man still on the ground.  
  
The young man blinked. “Umm. But…I wanted to…”  
  
Leah’s glare made him bite his lips. “Do as she asks, Orran, and don’t step on her feet,” she did not even wait for a response. Kaz was ushered away by his new date as quickly as they had arrived.  
  
By the end of third dance, Tap was positive she was a much better dancer than this Orran. _You’d think a noble would know how to dance!_ After that comment, she imagined Aracient’s response: _[Agreed.]_ Tap was glad the bird’s voice was with her even though her friend was not. A quick curtsey and she graciously found a new dance partner.  
  
***  
  
“You look older,” the woman said as they reached the long, half-covered balcony outside the main hall. This was a place the King had set aside for guests who wished for some privacy, but only a few invitees were out here on this cool Autumn night. Most who dared were young couples, the women covering their bare arms with shawls or gentlemen’s coats, while their partners shriveled in the cold night air. They stopped near the railing, far enough from the guests so none could eavesdrop without leaning in and giving themselves away.  
  
Kaz leaned against a stone column, crossing his arms as he gazed out past the castle wall and into the hills of the north. “Twelve years can change a man. Change, that always seems to catch up with us in the end. I’m different now, believe me.”  
  
“And more sentimental too,” Leah quipped.  
  
He laughed, though not in amusement. “What is it you want?” He did not look at her.  
  
“Those looking for you, they wish you to return. Kyznian sentimentalists,” she said that word with disdain, missing a few syllables as the strange Hylian word slipped off her tongue. “They think that if they bring the general back, it will bring back some mythical golden age.” He furrowed his brow at her remark. “No, I do not believe it, either”  
  
“I can’t solve all its problems.” He shook his head, staring at the stars in the distance. “Never really could. Sure, kill a tyrant and put another, perhaps better, tyrant in his place. Keep the borders safe, only to kill innocents on the other side. Bring justice, only to question myself later, asking if it were just to begin with…” Kaz paused and removed his overcoat.  
  
“Did I ever apologize?” He asked, gazing back at her.  
  
“Yes,” now Leah broke off to the starry sky.  
  
“Did you ever accept it?” He presented his coat to her. The chill on the balcony was cutting.  
  
No reply. They both knew the answer. She never had, she never would. He’d gotten quite used to such responses from those who had lost family members, loved ones, and friends over the last five hundred years. At some point, they had become only numbers; he could not have dealt with it for so long if he’d seen them as people instead. Children, really, even the senior soldiers and his most trusted officers.  
  
She had said he had grown sentimental, he guessed she was correct. Yazstromo would laugh if he knew how downright sentimental he had gotten, and perhaps remind him that five hundred years was still not quite three thousand.  
  
It was too bad the Redeemed often felt that old anyways. The mind could play strange tricks on a man.  
  
“If you did not come to pester me about that, why are you here?” Kaz asked. “Don’t take a knife from your skirt, though, that trick didn’t work last time.”  
  
Leah snorted. “I was young then.”  
  
“Still young now, you know.”  
  
“I would slip poison in your drink instead. A slow working one, preferably. It would take a week to work and appear to be a common illness.” Her cold eyes shimmered with faint amusement. A jest. He would never have expected to share a jest with this woman.  
  
“Curiosity, Amintor, drove me here,” she said. “I had to know what caused you to leave.”  
  
For a long time he did not answer, instead gathering his thoughts as he watched two guardsmen on top of the wall march by. Three times. She released a sigh. “I see—“  
  
Kaz waved his hand, shushing her. “By the goddesses; don’t. Haven’t you figured it out yourself?”  
  
She responded with a frown. Even if she had, he knew she wouldn’t admit it. Stubborn, endlessly stubborn, Naomi would like Leah just for her stubbornness alone.  
  
“Vivianna died fifty years ago this past spring, but who remembers, really?” Kaz heard the weary quiver in his voice as he spoke, his eyes became moist. “Only an old man who saw his wife in every hall, around every corner...”  
  
Leah glanced to the side, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“I still felt tied to duty, that’s why I didn’t leave. Couldn’t. But, after your sister died, I…they were all so young.” He released a sigh. In the cold air, he saw his breath, the nearby Fairy Lantern lending it an ethereal outline in the cold night air. Then, he continued. “They were too young—many younger than my great grandchildren; how can a man lead his own children to die, to kill? I grew tired, milady, worn out, it…” Leah raised a pale hand into the pale light between them.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I will tell them I found you dead.”  
  
She spun on her ankle, heels clicking against stone as she left. Kaz draped his untaken coat over the banister, ready to brace the cold alone. He knew true cold, true loneliness. Maybe he did come to Hyrule to die. But for now, he still had unfinished business. Kaz hurried down the halls after his departed company, reaching her once she was half-way down the staircase within the main hall. Kaz grabbed her arm. “Leah.”  
  
“I nearly forgave you…,” her voice grew solemn as the clamor and clatter from the hall below reached them. In the distance, nobles ate at tables, couples danced, and the King sat with his guests. Basyle was as jovial as ever. “…do not let me do so now.”  
  
His hand dropped to his side as she slipped away, rejoining the party below. Reaching up to his eyes, he wiped the tears away from them with the back of his sleeve. _Dear gods_ , he thought, _when was the last time… What…What’s that?_  
  
Kaz sprinted down the staircase, hand on the hilt of his not-so-ornamental sword. Something darkened the stained glass windows above, blocking the light from the Fairy Lanterns outside. He jumped over tables, causing a few nobles to yell, panic, and point. Then, he ran through the crowd towards Ashtar and the King where they dined near the dance floor. Neither noticed the shadow blanketing the hall. Only a few guests looked up as the ballroom was cast in a shallow gloom. One nobleman remarked that they needed to send a man to check the lanterns.  
  
Something colossal crashed through the window, shattering the stoic image of Mervil into a million shards of metal and glass. Women screeched and men screamed, some diving under their tables while others fled for the main corridor. A figure fell through the chaos, a shadowy cloak billowing around it. The shadow landed with an earth-shattering boom, smashing the marble dance floor. The impact threw the remaining dancers back like so many discarded corpses, sprawled out in a circle around the fiend, unmoving.  
  
Kaz’s grip tightened on his sword. He’d left Tap there. Was she one of those dancers? Should he choose between her and that craven of a man who’d brought this demon here? Among the chaos he spotted a woman in a large, red and ruffled ball gown. She was lying on her stomach, blood seeping from multiple wounds.  
  
The shadow stood slowly, bending and twisting in unnatural ways. It was tall, much taller than any man left in the dance hall. He did not take any steps, merely gliding closer to the banquet table where Basyle had previously been dining. The King was gone and a dozen guards now stood in his place.  
  
_[Do not waste your time,]_ the voice was calm, despite the murmuring cries of guests. The soldiers the Spectre addressed ignored him, brandishing their swords in a song of steel. _[Where is he? The guest of honour?]_ he turned his back on the brigade, stepping over the quivering form of the red woman. Kaz ignored his selfishness, hoping she was not who he believed her to be.  
  
_[Where have you hidden him? I ask only for a simple exchange. Give me the Ambassador and I will spare this Festival a fate it knows too well.]_  
  
The brigade of soldiers seemed to ponder this. Kaz could not blame them, everyone in the castle walls had heard of this Spectre, the terrible things he had done to Knights greater than them. Ashtar was gone, no doubt cowering in some corner.  
  
“You won’t touch him.” Naomi stepped out from the Kings Guard, unharmed. She held a spear in hand, brows drawn tight in anger. She had torn off the skirt of her dress, revealing a long tunic and white breeches underneath. “What makes you think you can take this man?”  
  
_[Naomi,]_ the Spectre did not turn to acknowledge her as he spoke. Could this really be Death: changed, unhinged? _[What is driving you to protect him? You know nothing about him. Honorable warriors have already fallen for this coward. I have no inhibition to dispose of one more.]_  
  
The Rito seemed to hesitate, as if she weren’t expecting the threat. “It’s not just me here, Death. There are other warriors here,” she pointed to Kaz, who stood near the other side of the dance floor. He half-drew his sword, unsure of what he planned to do with it.  
  
_[I fear no washed up captain, nor a mere nobleman,]_ Around them the ballroom went dark, causing more screams of panic. Lord Amintor leapt forward, coming to the edge of the shattered dance floor. _[Ashtar’s soul is mine, I have marked him and he has crossed me for the last time.]_  
  
Blue flames engulfed the fairy lanterns of the chandeliers above their heads, casting the ball room in a ghostly gloom of pale light and harsh shadows. Naomi lit her spear, wings outstretched, and eyes upon the Spectre, then, she charged, leaping into the air and diving upon him. Death blocked her with a black sword he had drawn from an invisible scabbard, showering the dance room in sparks of shadow and light.  
  
Naomi landed in a crouch near a table the King, the Advisor, and Ashtar had flipped on its side to hide behind. The guards who had taken Basyle’s place had all fled, cowards in the face of Death. The Spectre landed on the ground, only a few feet in front of her. “Who made you judge? Who are you to take the mantle of ‘Death’? Who are you to come here and demand our lives?”  
  
The fiend’s eerie laugh echoed throughout the silent hall. Fear, cold as ice, froze those who had stayed in the ballroom behind their own upturned tables, columns, or doors. Most only dared to look at the Figure the Rito had called “Death” even as she blocked a lazy blow from his sword. Behind him, Kaz approached cautiously, scanning the ballroom for any guardsmen who had stayed behind, and especially for the woman in red.  
  
He spotted some behind a table. “Guards, get these people to more a secure location,” he said, causing one of the men—James—to look up. “She can hold him for a bit, but if we don’t…”  
  
“But…he…he’s only toying with her…” whispered James, visibly shaken at confronting this monster once more. He was like stone now, watching as the pair exchanged blows, moving like graceful dancers around the ballroom. Violet flames and piercing light joined their magical dance, washing over the marble. Even with Naomi’s considerable skill the shade seemed uninjured. She was not faring nearly as well, bleeding from wounds on her shoulder, arms and right cheek. “We just can’t. We couldn’t stop it before. You heard who it is.”  
  
“That’s not important right now!” Kaz whispered, watching for a moment as Naomi stabbed at the Spectre, aiming for his shoulder, but only damaging his cloak.  
  
“Don’t just sit there like moss on a Deku Shrub,” Yazstromo’s wispy voice came from behind, seeming to break the spell holding the pocket of guards in place. “There are people here who are your responsibility. You handle them, and we will handle him,” Kaz could hear the uncertainty in the elder’s voice, but the Knights did not. They took off, gathering guards to their cause and began escorting as many guests as they could out of the hall. Death paid them no mind, distracted by Naomi and the men behind the table that she defended.  
  
Yazstromo waved solemnly to Kaz, running out from behind their table to join Naomi in her fight. He pulled a few imbued forks from his satchel and threw them at the Spectre’s back. Without turning, Death melted each one with a wall of black flame.  
  
_[I see you are well, and that you too have betrayed me, Scholar,]_ there was no inflection of hurt in the Spectre's voice.  
  
“Old nicknames, eh?” Yazstromo quipped, casting a bolt of dazzling lightning at the fiend. The Spectre caught the bolt on the edge of his black blade and threw it at Naomi, catching the Rito off guard. Her left wing was scorched from the blast. With his other hand, Death launched a spire of flame back at Yazstromo, never taking his gaze from Naomi as he did so. She seemed to be his consolation prize, blocking a jet of light she sent out from her spear. Kaz rushed to the Prophet’s aid, pushing him out of the way of the torrent of flames.  
  
_Damnit!_ Kaz landed hard on the marble, dropping his blade in the process. But the Shadow paid them no mind. Whatever stayed the fiend's hand, he did not know, but used it to his advantage. The Redeemed helped Yazstromo to his feet and ducked to safety behind the King’s upturned table.  
  
“Will…will…she’ll die because of me.” He heard Ashtar murmur. The man was still here, rolled up into a ball with his back against the wood. In his hands he held a golden staff, the conduit for whatever magic stayed the beast in the Highlands. “By the gods, she’ll die because me…”  
  
“Be quiet,” the Advisor seethed. Klaus pulled out a bottle from his robe. “Lord Amintor?”  
  
“If we act together,” he said, looking at Klaus, “we might have a chance to surprise him. I can help Naomi, distract him from her long enough…”  
  
A loud _thump_ , and a sudden _crash_ rung out behind them. Kaz peaked beyond the table, his heart catching in his throat. The ball room was now alight with black flames, Naomi standing like a silhouette of light against the shadows. Once, long ago, he had watched someone else, someone deserving, face this flame. Naomi’s light was growing dim, being beaten back towards their table with each blow Death dealt.  
  
Klaus lobbed the bottle he had taken from his robe; it shone like a beacon in the darkness. The Spectre’s sword intercepted the bottle, smashing into its flat side. The magical contents of the potion exploded around him, drowning him in smoke, flames, and splintered wood.  
  
“Get out of here...!” Kaz cried, running into the black smoke created by Klaus’ liquid bomb. He jumped over what remained of their table, covering his mouth with his hand. In the smokescreen he heard nothing but silence, not even his own cough.  
  
But a powerful blast of magic from the warlock blew the smoke up and out the broken window above. The sound was deafening, as if someone had blown a great horn loud enough for the Gods to hear. The sword Death had been using was misshapen, melted like black wax in his hand. He seemed to muse over the damage Klaus had done to his weapon.  
  
Naomi took her chance, leaping at the Spectre with her shining spear. At the same moment Kaz sliced the man’s leg. Death spun, barely blocking Naomi’s spear with his arm. Dark blood flowed from arm and leg. That, however, only served to enrage the fiend as he held his ground. The Spectre threw Kaz aside with a concussive wave from his free hand. The dripping blade in the other began to bubble and pulse, as if it were alive, pained by the damage done to it.  
  
“Such skill, such…grace,” the Spectre’s voice was queer when spoken aloud. “But...you will have to try a bit harder,” Death raised his disgraced sword high above his head. Dark fire shot from his hands, pulling in the other pillars of flame from around the room. Soon the blade and its master were enrobed in a cocoon of wicked heat and magic, a barrier no one would dare cross. Suddenly the shadow vanished in a cloud of smoke, the moonlight from above casting the room in silver light and deep blue shadow.  
  
“Naomi!” Kaz cried, watching as the Spectre reappeared behind her, a flaming scythe cutting the air, greedy for her neck.  
  
The Rito caught it on her spear’s shaft, her step faltering from the blow. Death vanished again, but his voice filled the hall, laughing at the warriors. A great wind blew in from the window above, pushing the heavy doors of the banquet shut, cutting James and his Knights from the rest of the guests.  
  
“A nobleman and a Rito half-trained in magic cannot hope to prevail against one such as me,” he said from the shadows, “these injuries are but scratches. If you had just turned over that fool I would have let you and all that remain live to see tomorrow’s sunrise. I was sure I made the consequences very clear."  
  
“He’s gone,” Kaz answered the fiend’s boasting; crouching into a defensive position, crossing the dance floor to stand beside Naomi. “And I doubt even you could find him!” He raised his sword, ready to strike.  
  
“Who is this fool swordsman?” The fiend asked from the shadows, curiosity tainting his voice. He reappeared on the staircase Kaz had entered by. Death floated towards them, spinning his fiery scythe in a lazy circle, building up a wall of black flame. He released it like a calm wave, making them split once more. It scorched their clothes and burned off one of Kaz’s sleeves, but otherwise did little harm.  
  
“I had expected this kind of treachery from you, Naomi, but from some man of the court?” he opened a gloved palm and a small red flame sprang to life, dancing in the night. The Spectre brought it close to the tired warriors, the flame casting a warm light on Kaz’s face. “You…? How?” he froze, the flame in his palm withered away to nothing. The Spectre vanished just as quickly.  
  
_[Is this some sort of trick? Your work, Yazstromo? The work of that whelp, Ashtar?!]_ The voice returned to them, speaking directly in their ears. Silence. What was he talking about? Kaz was sure Death had checked on him from time to time… hadn’t he?  
  
_Unless?_  
  
A barrage of stones suddenly rained from above. The Spectre was there, dark blue in the moonlight. He was tearing the stone pillars apart and throwing them at terrible speeds. Giant sheets of glass began to fall, smashing apart on the floor below as the banquet hall threatened to fall in on itself.  
  
“Come down here and fight, you coward!” Kaz mocked, beckoning Yazstromo to rejoin them in the centre of the dance floor. He wasn’t sure they could take it much longer. He had several cuts, bruises, and burns covering his body. The Spectre had received several cuts and slashes already, revealing pale skin and vile, black blood beneath its black robes. Some wounds were deep, but he showed no sign of relenting. The Redeemed looked at Naomi, she fared slightly better, able to heal the worst of her injuries with her magic, but that did little to allay her exhaustion.  
  
_Damn_ , Kaz thought as they circled one another, dodging magical attacks left and right, _if we can’t end it soon…_ Images of Tap’s fate flooded his mind. Where was she? Maybe the Knights had carried her out. Maybe that red dress on the dance floor, broken and bleeding, hadn't been her...He shook his head, barely dodging another attack from the Spectre, sliding to a halt on the dance floor beside the battered Yazstromo.  
  
Naomi met his eyes. She had an idea. He nodded. She launched into the air, taking a wide swing at the Spectre. Kaz ran underneath them, sword at the ready, waiting for Death to return to the floor. But he did not move. The hall shook with a terrible power, tendrils of fire shot forth from the Shadow’s pale hand, smashing into the hall below. One of them wrapped around Naomi’s leg and sent her tumbling into the chaos far below.  
  
Kaz leapt to break her fall, tumbling head over foot with the badly burned Rito. His blade clattered to the side, out of reach. He tried to run for his weapon but was knocked back by the swinging strands of black flame. Kaz landed awkwardly on his side, landing awkwardly upon his hand. It was at least sprained, probably broken in multiple places and burned. Useless, he could do nothing more than watch the fight unfold. Naomi had fallen to her knees, her head sagging between them. Kaz looked wildly around for Yazstromo, finding him pinned in a corner with the dozens of terrified guests who remained, as if Death was not interested in harming the Prophet.  
  
“Such is the fate of all who challenge me,” Death stepped out from the blistering flames, unfazed by their heat. He walked now on unseen feet, his face still a void in the firelight. The flames obeyed their master, pulling Naomi’s weak form to her feet. He lifted her chin with one pale hand, its black scythe at the edge of her neck. “Did you forget this? Whatever treachery brings this thief here, I do not care,” he pointed the weapon now at Kaz, held back by the swelling heat of the fire. “I will cut you down once I’m finished with her. There is no third time.”  
  
“Then mark me,” Naomi spat in Death's face. “Throw me aside like you did to our friends.”  
  
“If these people were friends they would not deny me my rightful due. I imagine you are hiding others, trying to sway me. If the Scholar wise, he would not stand against me. If the Innocent still pure, would she not have turned the Ambassador in?” Death asked, his shadowed face coming closer to hers. “If you are still my beloved, Naomi…why have you betrayed me?”  
  
“I was…never your beloved,” she said, struggling against her magical bonds, “…bastard.”  
  
She freed her arm, stabbing the spear clean into his chest. The Spectre dropped her in surprise, pulling the weapon out, turning the fine wood to ash at his mere touch. The spearhead fell to the floor between them, clanging sharply against the marble tiles. She gasped. Dread clasped her gut as his face nearly touched hers.  
  
She should have seen his pale face. His beard; his icy cold stare, perhaps a faint, but judgmental frown. Instead, all she saw was shadow, and two pinpoints of blue light which may have been eyes.  
  
“Mervil…?”  
  
His voice reached inside her mind. _[I thought you would recall…,]_ then, he added in a quiet voice, ever closer. She could have sworn she felt a warm breath touch the tip of her ear, “You may not use that name.”  
  
He lifted his scythe to her throat. One quick inch, and she would die. She would not close her eyes. Death would not see her cower before him.  
  
“I don’t fear you.”  
  
“What a shame,” he nicked her neck gently. She could feel the warmth of her own blood as it oozed slowly down the black blade. “This is what happens to those _friends_ who—“  
  
A midnight black feather landed on the blade, its quill pointed towards Naomi, its vanes and shaft bent so that it pointed up at Death’s hood. Above them, a raven cawed angrily. All of the Spectre’s flames died out at once, and the ballroom, once more, was consumed by darkness. A few broken rays of cold moonlight landed upon them, silhouetting them like two performers in some twisted play. Shards of glass shimmered in the dark, upon the dance floor like so many stars scattered across the midnight sky.  
  
“Shadow,” Death lifted his head as a soft voice spoke, a few drops of anger only hinting at the rage beneath, “enough.”  
  
The black scythe was swatted aside by a blade made of ethereal starlight. Death released Naomi from his grip, springing backwards. Behind the Spectre, he sent out a burst of flame and trailing shadows, only for the attack to be blocked by a nearly invisible shield of silvery light.  
  
“Do not touch her,” Kaz knew this voice. Jaros. Green, catlike eyes flickered to life in the darkness. Something…inhuman, with a sharp, elongated face, long limbs, and dark beauty, like stars of long ago. It was a Lyos, in a guise akin to its true form. His glamour having dissipated as his stoic mask fell from his face. Jaros now stood by Naomi's side, taking her hand in his. The Lyos summoned a spherical shield of Starlight to protect them. “Flee, or—“  
  
“Tell me, Jaraki…” the silhouette asked, vanishing deeper into the darkness that now engulfed the ballroom, “what do you fear most?”  
  
“Do you fear loss…?” He appeared again behind them, throwing a spire of dark fire at them. Then, four more columns of flame came to life, all slamming into Jaros' shield, making it shimmer with each hit. “Poverty?”  
  
Death appeared near the shield, rekindling the dark fires around them, sitting fire once more to the ballroom. The Spectre swung his scythe in a wide arch, releasing a massive gust of wind. Yet, the shield did not waver.  
  
“Fate?”  
  
The Spectre crept towards them and leaned forward, his waif-like form only a breath away from the shimmering shield. “You’re dying, you know,” gone again, like a flash of light.  
  
“Are you afraid that she does not love you?” Death laughed.  
  
The Rito shivered. It was just the unnatural chill. It _had_ to be.  
  
“Why should she?” said the Spectre, emerging from the shadows near the remains of the King’s table. Death skulked through them as fire and shadow danced in his wake. With a lazy gesture, he sent more spires of flame at them, laughing eerily, like a child playing some demented game.  
  
“All you are is a shadow of whom you once were. A frail man, standing at the edge of his grave, waiting to fall in so that others may bury his corpse... I can taste death in the air.” A crimson tongue slithered out of his invisible mouth.  
  
“I can feel it brush against my shoulder.”  
  
The Spectre threw a shower of flames and shadows from his hand.  
  
“And smell your fear on the wind.”  
  
A heavy gust blew through the cracked window, picking up shards of wood, glass, and steel, zipping around them in a cyclone, but it dissolved against the shield like the rest of the magical attacks had.  
  
“Your shield won’t protect you forever…” Beneath the Spectre’s hood, he grinned; white teeth slashing across his face in a jagged smile. A smile Naomi had seen before. “And if you can’t, who then shall protect her?”  
  
“You’ve failed,” the Spectre flew at them, awaking a wave of flame behind him, burning the corpses of the damned in a conflagration. With a heavy swipe, the Shadow’s scythe cut through the air, shattering the shield that had kept them safe from his fiery rage. Naomi cried in alarm, feeling, more than seeing Jaros fall back, nearly tripping over his own limbs.  
  
In the dark, she heard a heavy _thud_. Something hard and bright had slammed against Death’s head. The Spectre turned, facing the red-haired newcomer dressed in a long coat.  
  
“I am afraid…,” said the man, the glowing Stone whipped back into his hand via some unseen magic, “that this whole affair isn’t in my best interests.”  
  
The Shadow spun, whipping his scythe through the air, aiming for the man’s neck. He leaped back, dodging the blow. Smirking like a conceded fool, wearing the smile rather than owning it. The Spectre swung his fiery scythe once more, but before the blade could cut off the man’s head, Death was struck by a dozen knives formed from Starlight, piercing through Death’s left side.  
  
The Spectre screeched in pain, his body shredded, bleeding blood and shadow upon the ground as he took several steps back, hissing. Jaros had returned to a more amiable disguise, concentrating as much of his magic as he could spare. Starlight rained from above, falling through the destroyed façade of Mervil’s victory. The Spectre tried to protect himself, but the light of the Lyos seemed too difficult to snuff out.  
  
In a burst of black flames, the fiend vanished, leaving a trail of ethereal Starlight in his wake. Death's scythe clattered to the floor, abandoned.  
  
_[You have damned this Kingdom, fools,]_ The voice whispered, a remnant of the Shadow not unlike Jaros’s magic, carried off into the night by a chill wind.  
  
A moment later, Jaros collapsed beside his equally battered wife. Naomi slung his arm over her shoulder then stood, throwing his hood over his face. To her surprise the man in the long coat took his other arm. They headed towards the closest exit. Her heart slowed, voices and horrifying crying began to replace the silence as the masses realized the Shadow had fled.  
  
Guests began to emerge from their corners, clearly distraught. Men and women alike began calling names, looking for loved ones and friends in the rubble. Naomi could hear Kaz above the clamor, calling out for Tap and a woman’s name she had never heard before.  
  
A great pounding echoed into the hall, the tall doors of the ballroom shivering from a force on the other side. Yelling and shuffling could be heard out in the Castle corridors. Another loud _crack_ echoed out and the shambling figure of a Goron entered the room, the doors falling into splinters around him. Bronzen carried an axe much larger than any man, his bandaged body heaving from the effort to break in.  
  
A great wave of Knights streamed into the hall, directed by James to tend to the wounded. The hulking form of the Guild Master ran into the ballroom, barking orders as well, especially directing the search for the King and Klaus. Fairy lanterns began to fill the room with light, illuminating the aftermath of the Spectre’s attack. The smell of scorched flesh hung heavy on the air, making Naomi realize just how badly she had been burnt.  
  
In the shadow of the doorway stood the Ambassador, wide green eyes surveying what remained of the ballroom. “We…we’re safe?” Ashtar hobbled over, clutching his staff like a child would a toy. Naomi sighed in response, adjusting Jaros’s weight on her shoulder. “He’s…the phantom's gone?”  
  
“…for now,” said Jaros in a weak voice. Ashtar shivered. “…but, wherever it’s gone…we defied it. …I fear it will—”  
  
He wheezed, then coughed, a little blood and bile spattered on her shoulder.  
  
“I think it may be advantageous for you and I if you would, as Hyrulin—ans say, shut up,” said the mysterious man. Naomi blinked, her mind slowly working out _who_ this ginger-haired stranger must be.  
  
“Tiveri?” she whispered once they had passed Ashtar and those who still lingered in the doorway, lamenting the scene. A group of nurses, led by the vigilant Mable, rushed down the halls, carrying stretchers and chests of medicine. The Twili looked over his shoulder, leering ever so slightly. Once they were out of earshot, he nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
They passed quietly along the empty corridors, questions echoing inside Naomi’s head. Soon they were at their private chambers and Naomi laid Jaros out in her bed in their guestroom. Dawn's light began to trickle in their windows, dreary with clouds and heavy rain. Tiveri slipped out of the room.  
  
In their room, there was something akin to silence. Twas the peace in the eye of the storm. They were safe, for now. She sat on the chair beside her husband's bed, a cold chill leeching any warmth she felt as she watched him sleep; his breathing haggard and worn. She closed her eyes, but behind them, all she saw was Death's torn form staring back at her with cold, blue eyes. Empty; no sign of the man she had known in their depths.  
  
_What have you become, Mervil?_ She thought, weariness seeping into her bones. She took Jaros' hand, squeezing it firmly, feeling its warmth in her slender hands. Even that did little to reassure her.  
  
"What did that fool-Ashtar do to incite Death's wraith?" she whispered, but the only answer she received was the somber tune of slow, cold raindrops against stone. _By the gods, why would he betray us...?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes:
> 
> ~Thus ends the second Part of Forever Forgotten~
> 
> Crossposter notes: Unfortunately this is all there is to the story. At about the time of this chapter's posting, the original forums began to decline in interest and the last of the trilogy was never begun. 
> 
> Plenty enjoyed the story during its hey day, though, and as a result [there is quite a bit of artwork](https://imgur.com/a/fPgzFzd). It's worth looking at.


End file.
